Outside Edge
by LadyDivine91
Summary: Sebastian is a talented skater, figure and hockey, on Westerville's premiere team, Elite. Kurt wants to be on the team more that anything, but he doesn't have a coach, doesn't have money, doesn't have a chance in hell. To Sebastian, Kurt is nothing more than a "rink rat". He wants him off his ice and out of his life...which doesn't work out well when Sebastian becomes Kurt's coach
1. Pas de Deux

**Kurt is minding his own business, teaching his little group of beginner skaters the basics, when a spy from the opposite side of the rink infiltrates his midst.**

 **This is a one-shot for a larger story that I'm writing called "Outer Edge" with Kurt and Sebastian as rival figure skaters. I'm just putting this out there to see who might be interested. Let me know what you think in the comments.**

Kurt takes a spin around his little group of novice skaters, counting heads as he glides along on their coned-off section of the rink and double-checking that everyone is accounted for. He's glad he was able to snag the ages five through seven pre-alpha group. It's so nice to be able to usher an excited gaggle of beginners towards their first swizzles down the ice, even if he will have to scoop up a few along the way. But that's all right. That just means less arm and chest work he'll have to do at the gym later on.

He has an even dozen, which is a good size for a group this age, at this skill level. As they progress, he'll be able to choreograph a number for them, something they can show off to their parents on the last day of class. It helps that Kurt is currently co-captain of Westerville Ice-plex's official competition figure skating dance team – ParadIce. The kids in his group – boys and girls alike – stare at him in envious, open-mouthed awed as he twirls around them, dressed in his bedazzled black team jacket.

Nope, he doesn't foresee any discipline problems here.

"Okay guys, we're going to start with a simple swizzle – forward and back, just like I showed you last time …" He demonstrates it again while he speaks, just to be sure they understand "… and then we're going to take it down the ice. So let me see you guys swizzle." Kurt smiles encouragingly as the lock-kneed and slightly shaky group tries their hands at this elementary move, the lot of them swaying back and forth like unsteady ships on an ironically calm sea. One poor boy in a puffy red jacket drops straight to the ice the second his feet move from start position while, at the front of the line, a taller-than-average girl with curly brown hair peeking out from underneath a rainbow tie-dyed helmet catches on right away. Kurt smiles at her approvingly. There's usually one natural in the bunch, and Kurt already knows she's going to be the one to beat in this group.

"Good," Kurt says, rushing to catch the little boy in the red jacket before he hits the ice for a fourth time. "Now we're going to travel down the length of the ice in pairs. I want to see long necks, heads up, shoulders squared, and arms out." He strikes this pose, and the kids do their best to mimic him. It's so adorable, he wishes he could stop and take a picture. He'll have to remember for next time. Parents love to see their kids on the website. It pretty much guarantees they'll sign them up for the next session. "And … begin." He steps back as the group passes, some with excellent form like the girl in front, and some barely managing to stay upright, like the boy in the red jacket, arms already windmilling, threatening to take two other kids with him the next time he falls. "Swizzle, swizzle - good, swizzle, swiz-" Kurt pauses when he sees a lone skater bringing up the end of his group. Kurt watches him expertly swizzle down the ice, almost giving the girl in the front a run for her money. Except, unlike the rest of his class, who are mostly bedecked in figure skating leggings from Justice, puff jackets, colorful helmets, and white or black figure skates, this boy is wearing a long-sleeve tee, jean shorts, shin guards … and hockey skates.

"Hold up, hold up, hold up," Kurt calls as his small group reaches the wall, rushing to grab the narrow edge as if their bowed-legs and lives depended on it. Kurt catches up to the last boy just as he skillfully skids to a stop. "You, in the jorts …" Kurt points, indicating the boy's style choice while suppressing a pained eye roll "… are you in my class?"

"Uh, yeah," the boy answers with a smirk … one that's all too familiar for Kurt's taste. "Sure."

"A-ha," Kurt says, catching on quickly to what's going on. "And what's your name?"

"Michael." The boy's shifty eyes dart down the length of the ice while he tries not to snicker. "Michael Clemens."

"Yeah, I don't have a Michael Clemens on my roll call sheet," Kurt says without checking it.

"That's because I'm new," the boy says, lips pulling tight so he doesn't laugh. "My mom just signed me up this morning."

Kurt rolls his eyes. He can't believe this. The immaturity. He stands up straight, looking over rows of skaters to the other side of the rink where another boy his age, working with a group of hockey players, shoots a look back at him, doing a better job at not giving himself away than the boy in front of him … but not by much. "I see. Jane?" Kurt waves at another instructor off-ice. She looks up at the sound of her name. "Can you come here, please? I need you for a second."

"Surely," she says, smiling at Kurt's group of confused skaters. She steps on the ice, ready to take over for the moment.

"You guys stay by the wall and practice your swizzles," Kurt says to his pre-alphas. "Jane's going to keep an eye on you. Except you." Kurt points at the boy whose face has gone scarlet while he fights not to break down. " _You_ come with me." Kurt motions with his finger, leading the boy around the outer edge of the rink to where a group of similarly dressed children are practicing T-stops.

 _Jorts_ , Kurt judges silently. _Why are they all wearing jorts? What? Did he make that a requirement or something? Those poor kids._

"Very nice," their leader cheers, clapping his hands with enthusiasm, extremely focused on his skaters. But Kurt can see his eyes clearly now, and the twitching in his cheek as he forces himself _not_ to watch Kurt glide to a stop beside him.

"Smythe, do you really need to send your minions down to my end of the rink to infiltrate my class as an excuse to talk to me?"

"Hummel," Sebastian replies without taking his eyes off of his slightly more advanced group of skaters, "I think _you're_ the one using it as an excuse."

"Me?" Kurt crosses his arms. "How am _I_ using it as an excuse?"

"Well, you didn't _have_ to escort him all the way back over here. He knows the way."

"I'm just bringing him over to make sure his instructor gets the message."

"And what message is that?"

"That you and your band of ruffians need to stay on this end of the rink so that me and my figure skaters can get to the business of practicing grace and elegance."

"Oh, yeah?" Sebastian peeks over at Kurt's pre-alphas on the other end of the rink in time to watch a boy in a red jacket flop backward, knocking over one other boy _and_ the substitute instructor. "Good luck with that. And what will you do if we don't?"

Kurt closes the few feet between them, coming to a stop inches away from Sebastian's face. Sebastian's eyes, glowing with mischief, turn from his skaters to the young man beside him, standing close enough for Sebastian to smell the floral cologne he wears, feel the heat of his breath wash over the cold of Sebastian's cheeks. "Why don't you meet me at my pond after class and you'll find out."

The corner of Sebastian's mouth climbs into a smirk. Kurt wonders how many times he smiles like that during class seeing as it's started to infect the kids in his group. "I guess I will," Sebastian promises, giving Kurt a wink before he returns his attention to his class, which is fine by Kurt, since he has a group of his own to go back to. He pushes backward on his left blade, spins on one leg, and heads back to his end of the rink.

Sebastian watches Kurt skate away, swaying left to right as he sashays back to his pre-alphas. Sebastian tries not to be too obvious about his ogling, especially with parents close by, but he can't help whistling low at just how snug Kurt's pants are, how tightly they hug his legs.

"So, how did I do, coach?" Michael pipes up, having creeped up on Sebastian's right when he saw Kurt leave.

"Excellent," Sebastian says, offering the kid a high-five. "Perfect. You definitely earned that Snickers bar."

"Yes!" Michael cheers, doing a victory dance on the toes of his blades.

"Why don't you go back to practicing stops with the other kids?" Sebastian says, shooing Michael away with a pat on the shoulder. "Okay, guys and gals. I need another volunteer." Hands shoot into the air. For the promise of a Snickers bar, most of his kids will do anything. Sebastian points to one young lady bouncing up and down, her slick black ponytail thrashing behind her as she lands. "Okay, Sheila. You're up." She jumps to it, hurrying through the crowd of kids going back to their T-stops.

"Okay, buddy." Sebastian takes a knee. He watches Kurt relieve the substitute coach, helping her brush off a patch of snow from the back of her jacket before he rejoins his group. Kurt raises his arms. He looks across the ice in search of Sebastian. He seems disappointed when he doesn't see him, but returns to his kids, grabbing for the boy in the red jacket as he drops out of sight. "Are you ready?"

"Yeah, coach," Sheila says, giggling as she prepares to take off on her mission. Sebastian waits until Kurt starts his kids up again, swizzling back across the ice, then gives her a nudge.

"Go."


	2. Stickhandling

**While Sebastian tries to teach his hockey players the fine art of stickhandling, he gets distracted by Kurt practicing his short program ... which doesn't go unnoticed by the team.**

"Push!" Sebastian screams, rallying his group stuck in a corner, fighting over a puck that's safe and staying put. "Push! Push! Get that puck to the goal!" Sebastian glances over at the goal as if by looking in its direction, the gaggle of teenage boys and girls currently going nowhere will figure out what they're supposed to be doing. Just as he's about to blow his whistle and break them up, Lorelei, one of his senior Defensemen, manages to snag control of the puck. She shoves it out of the melee and leaps into action, shooting it in the direction of the goal. "Yes! Keep going!" he cheers, but somewhere along the path of clear, unobstructed ice, smooth sailing straight for the goal, she fumbles. "No, no, no! Don't back up! Go forward!" He turns to point with both fingers towards the goal, like the ground crew of an airline directing a plane, when he catches sight of Kurt at the opposite end of the ice, practicing his short program. His earbuds in his ears, he has completely blocked them out, skating to Lady Gaga's _The Cure_.

Sebastian knows that song, every word of it. But he wouldn't know it at all if not for Kurt. Sebastian's favorite verse by far is the one he knows Kurt is skating to right now –

 _I'll undress you, 'cause you're tired  
Cover you as you desire  
When you fall asleep inside my arms …_

"Go," Sebastian repeats, his attentions split in two. He watches Kurt spin effortlessly, attacking his first combination with the grace of a ballerina, floating across the ice as easily as if he had wings to carry him "… uh … go forw-"

"Coach?" Sebastian doesn't notice when the clattering of sticks on the ice stops, his group of sixteen- and seventeen-year-olds waiting for him to quit staring and return to the task of _coaching_. "Coach Sebastian?"

"Uh, what?" Sebastian pulls his eyes away from Kurt's sit spin to address his group. "What?"

"You did it again." Lorelei giggles.

"Did what?"

"You're spacing out," Lorelei's brother Kevin answers. "Are you okay, man? That's, like, the third time so far."

"Yeah," another boy agrees. "And you look a little _red_."

"Red?" Sebastian puts a hand to his cheek. It's warm. Flushed. From watching Kurt skate to a song they picked out together while making out on Sebastian's bed. "No," he says, turning his back to Kurt and waving them off. "I'm fine."

"Yeah, right," Kevin mutters under his breath, causing snickers to erupt all around.

Sebastian scowls. He's only a year older than most of these kids, but he's still their coach. He doesn't appreciate being teased by _juniors_.

"If I am spacing out, it's because your stickhandling is so bad, it's putting me to sleep."

"Boo!" Kevin laughs, punching knuckles with another boy.

"I know how to make our stickhandling more exciting," Patricia, one of Sebastian's co-captains, offers with a hand politely raised.

"Yeah? How?" Sebastian asks. Patricia tends to be one of his more pragmatic players, a hard worker on and off the ice. Even if she's not as boisterous as the other kids, less inclined to fool around, her peers listen to her. Sebastian hopes that her likely suggestion of getting back to practice will help end the goofing off.

But when Patricia bites her lip, he begins to doubt that what she's about to say will help anything. "We can get a few pointers … from Coach Hummel."

The team roars, loud enough to get Kurt's attention from over the music in his ears. A scarlet-faced Sebastian peeks over his shoulder to see Kurt staring, hands over his mouth, his eyes bright from muffled laughter.

"Ha-ha," Sebastian says dryly. He blows his whistle. "Drop and give me twenty! On the ice! _Now_!"

The grumbling lot of teenagers put down their sticks and start doing push-ups as Kurt returns to his routine.

"Besides, _Patricia_ , you might not want that," Sebastian continues, aiming to have the last word. "Hummel may only coach hockey part time, but he can spank most of you guys with a stick any day of the week. Twice on Sunday."

"How about he just spanks you and we get back to practice?"

"And that's another twenty!"

Kevin peeks at his sister with tears of laughter in his eyes. "Totally worth it."


	3. Jealousy

**Sebastian isn't all that fond of Kurt's new friendship with another local figure skater, Blaine Anderson.**

 _ **A/N: The main story isn't going to contain any Blaine, but I thought this was a nice little look at Kurt and Blaine being friends. Includes a few canon elements with regard to Blaine's story line. Inspired by a new trend I've been seeing at the rink I go to of young boys skating in leather jackets. xD**_

"Have you thought about what music you're going to skate to for the Spring Hop?" Blaine asks, sticking his hands in the pockets of his leather motorcycle jacket. Sitting beside Kurt in the penalty box, Blaine watches him sift through his warm-up playlist on his iPod.

Kurt and Blaine met at the LGBT skate night event Sebastian had taken Kurt to in Columbus. Blaine had been in the bathroom touching up the gel in his hair when Kurt came in. Kurt commented on how less gel would actually be healthier for his hair (since Blaine layered it on pretty thick, and daily, he'd remarked), and that his natural curls, which were visible in a few spots where his gel had failed to do its job, were actually more handsome than the helmet he'd created by gluing it all into place.

Blaine thanked him shyly, and explained that he did it because the curls made him self-conscious. They talked for a few minutes, traded fashion tips, compared coffee orders, and discovered that they shared a mutual appreciation for Sondheim musicals.

In a matter of minutes, they had become friends.

Sebastian didn't realize how friendly they were until the past few days. Blaine has made it a point to stop by their rink every day after school on the way to his own private lesson, thus monopolizing _his_ boyfriend's time.

Well, fifteen minutes of it, but that still irks Sebastian.

"I've narrowed it down," Kurt says. "This is a recital, not a competition, so I want to do something a little different. Break some boundaries."

"Makes sense. What are your choices?"

"I'm either going with Sia's 'The Greatest' …"

"Ooo. That's a powerful song."

"That's what I was thinking. Or something fun like Shaggy's 'I Need Your Love'."

"That's a _great_ song. It's kinda _sexy,_ " Blaine agrees enthusiastically, which helps Kurt make his decision. He'd been considering holding on to the Sia song. Skating to it would make a greater impact in a competition setting – not to ensure a win, but to make a statement. "And, will you be skating solo … or do you have a partner?"

"Solo. I asked my boyfriend if he'd skate with me, but he said he'd rather watch me perform this time around."

Kurt has mentioned his boyfriend before. He doesn't shut up about him, actually. But Blaine has yet to be introduced. In Columbus, Blaine had to leave before he got the chance to see Kurt again, and here at the rink, Sebastian tends to make himself scarce when Blaine shows up, so Blaine's not even entirely sure which boy on the ice Kurt's boyfriend is, though he's more than certain the guy watches them from somewhere in the crowd. But today, the rink is empty – only about four other people practicing, and two of them are under the age of six. Blaine raises his eyes and peeks around. His gaze falls on one boy in particular whose glare Blaine has sworn he's felt since he arrived – a boy in a long, red coach's coat, seething from the opposite end of the ice. "Now, would he be the tall guy in hockey skates, staring me down like he wants to murder me?"

Without looking up from his iPod, Kurt says, "That would be him. You get used to it."

"He's a handsome guy," Blaine admits, giving the glaring boy a cordial nod. Sebastian nods stiffly back.

"He is." Kurt smiles subconsciously as he stows his iPod in his pocket.

"It must be nice having someone watch out for you."

Kurt knows that comment is in reference to the bullying Blaine has had to endure in public school. Luckily, his parents transferred him to a private school where he would be safer. He says he has lots of friends at his new school, but Kurt still gets the impression that he's kind of lonely.

Blaine's a hopeless romantic, just like Kurt, looking for a special someone.

"We watch out for each other." Kurt tilts his head and smiles at his boyfriend, whose eyes dart off, but only because the second Kurt looks his way, Sebastian's fire begins to cool.

He doesn't want it to. He wants this rink to feel twenty degrees warmer with the power of his stare.

"Well, I have to get going," Blaine says. "I want the chance to warm-up before I hit the ice."

"Thank you for stopping by."

"Thank you for taking time out of your busy afternoon to talk."

"Anytime. Come by whenever you want. In fact, stop by earlier. We can warm-up together."

"I'd like that."

Kurt stands and gives Blaine a quick hug, a hug that can't be mistaken for anything other than platonic, but from the corner of his eye, Kurt sees Sebastian spin out backward and take off down the ice. Blaine watches Sebastian slide to a halt, then skate back the opposite way, repeatedly practicing one foot stops while he waits for his boyfriend.

"I think you'd better settle your man down. He looks a bit agitated."

"Like I said, you get used to it."

Blaine glances one last time at the boy who has suddenly found himself a hockey stick, and says, "Yeah, I'm outta here. See you tomorrow."

"See ya."

Kurt looks Sebastian's way, chuckling when he sees what made Blaine head out the door so quickly. With a fond roll of his eyes, he returns to the ice, skating across to his menacing boyfriend, extremely involved in batting a puck.

"What's up?" Kurt asks, stopping just short of the business end of Sebastian's stick.

"What's up with you and James Dean over there?" Sebastian asks, not taking his eyes off the ice.

"Absolutely nothing. We were just talking about my song selection for the Spring Hop … and _you_."

"Yeah." Sebastian huffs. "I bet you were." Kurt sighs while Sebastian mumbles under his breath, "Sitting so close together. Who wears a leather jacket ice skating anyway …?"

Kurt skates forward and blocks the puck with his blade. He puts a hand on Sebastian's wrist and moves his stick aside. He slides into Sebastian's space, unzips his coat, and slips inside. Then he wraps his arms around his waist. It's reflex when Sebastian puts his arms around Kurt's body and holds him tight.

Their start together in this unlikely relationship was rocky. And as cocky as Sebastian has always been about school and about skating, it's where Kurt is concerned that his self-confidence takes a hit. From what Sebastian has seen and heard about Blaine Anderson, he seems like the kind of guy that Kurt would be dating if he weren't dating Sebastian. Sebastian had been on Kurt's case hard for months before they ever realized they had anything in common. Kurt and Blaine became besties in seconds. They talk about clothes and skin care and Broadway musicals, all topics that Sebastian can't seem to get the hang of. And Kurt doesn't force him. But maybe it would be easier for him to date someone like Blaine, who's already into all of that stuff.

Who treated him like a gentleman from day one.

The pre-made perfect boyfriend for Kurt - no fuss, no muss, and no heartache involved.

Just as Sebastian is about to tell him so, Kurt catches his mouth, words and all, and in a rare moment of PDA, kisses him. It's a soft slide of his lips against Sebastian's, but Sebastian wants it to last. He drops his stick, swivels Kurt from view, and wraps him in his coat so that Kurt will kiss him for as long as he's comfortable.

Hidden inside Sebastian's coat, Kurt makes a bold move, slipping his tongue into Sebastian's mouth. Before Sebastian can return the gesture, Kurt buries his forehead into Sebastian's shoulder.

"What was that for?" Sebastian pants, warmer than normal within the shield of his coat with Kurt breathing against his neck.

"I'm trying to prove something to you, you big blockhead."

"And that is …?"

"That I'm _your_ boyfriend, remember? You're the guy I'm dating. You're the one I wanted to skate with at the Spring Hop."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather watch you."

"So you keep saying." Kurt runs the tip of his nose against Sebastian's, trying to lure a smile out of him. " _You're_ the one I want to be with, Sebastian. No one else."

"I just want you to be sure."

"If I wasn't sure, I wouldn't be here. You should know that by now."

"I guess. But maybe … sometimes … I think you deserve better."

"Why don't you let me worry about that, hmm? That way you don't go doing something stupid like breaking up with me because you think it's what's best for me. I don't want my life to be like an episode of _Pretty Little Liars_ or something."

"Thank _God_ they're canceling that show."

"I know, right?"

Sebastian sighs. "I'm sorry if I made your little friend uncomfortable with my death glare."

"No, you're not," Kurt says, giving him a playful shove.

Sebastian tries to look sincere, but a laugh slips past his lips. "You're right. I'm not. But I'm trying to be the good guy."

Kurt slips his hands up Sebastian's back, over his compression shirt, and scratches lightly down his spine. "Well, whether you like Blaine or not, you're still succeeding."

Kurt gives him another kiss, one passionate enough to make Sebastian blush.

"So, what do you want to do now?" Sebastian asks, praying the answer will be _go back to my house and make out_.

"Well, we have two choices. You can keep playing with your stick while I practice, or maybe you could help me choreograph my number?"

"Are you gonna do the sexy song?"

Kurt laughs, wondering if he should tell Sebastian that Blaine thinks that song is sexy, too.

 _Mmm, probably not._

"Yes, I'm going to do the sexy song."

"Good." Sebastian grins. "Then we should start by making out some more."

"And how is _that_ going to help?"

Sebastian's eyebrows bounce up suggestively. "Research."


	4. Falling

**While Kurt tries to teach his competition skaters a new move, Sebastian comes over to bug his boyfriend, just because he's an ass.**

 _ **A/N: We saw Sebastian make a fool out of himself in front of his own hockey players. I thought it would be fun to see him make a fool out of himself in front of Kurt's figure skaters xD Inspired by some of the trash talking between figure skaters and hockey players we see down at our rink ... and the tremendous amount of falling everyone does xD**_

"That's good, that's good. Very nice." Kurt claps, encouraging his students as they twirl past him, some of them unsteadily. "That's much better, yes." He spots a potential mishap the second before it happens, but there's no way for him to prevent it. All he can do is watch with nose scrunched and manage the aftermath. "Ooo. Are you ok?" He offers a hand to the girl who collided with another skater going into a turn, tripping over her toe pick and falling onto her knees on the ice.

"I … I think so, Coach Hummel," the watery-eyed skater answers, grasping his arm and pulling herself up.

"Let's take a look." He examines her knees, takes a peek at her back, and declares her good to go. "Just skate it off, Lindsey. Skate it off. Come on, guys. That's a good first effort. Let's try it again. We don't get better if we don't practice."

"How come it is that your students are always falling on their asses?" Sebastian asks, skating his way over to Kurt's group, passing a puck between his blades.

Kurt skates away before Sebastian even finishes his sentence.

"No puck handling while classes are in session," Kurt scolds. "You know the rules. If any of my kids trip and fall because you've got that thing over here …"

"Don't worry about my puck," Sebastian cuts him off, stopping with the puck between his skates. "Your kids do a fine job of falling all on their own."

"Are you lost, Smythe?" Kurt asks, wordlessly redirecting his gamma students – his older, competition level group – to repeat the move they've been learning across to the other end of the ice. "Or are you over here looking for help with your salchow?"

"Kurt Hummel! Are you implying that my salchow's somehow _lacking_?" Sebastian fakes a dramatic gasp. "Why, you wound me, sir!"

"Oh, I'm not _implying_ anything." Kurt skates up to his boyfriend, arms crossed over his chest. "I'm _saying_ that your jumps are weak." Kurt continues past him to join his students waiting and watching by the wall. "Maybe you should take a break from hockey for a while and sign up for my class, because lately it's been looking to me like you might need a refresher."

Kurt's kids _ooo_ and giggle, but they know the two coaches aren't fighting. Not for real. They've gotten used to these little displays by these two, who constantly find the need to pester one another. Coach Sebastian is a competitive figure skater like the rest of them. One of the best at the rink, second to Kurt (in their opinions). But as long as Sebastian is suited up in his hockey gear, he's a hockey player, and it's a common practice for the figure skaters and the hockey players to needle one another, fighting for rink supremacy.

Which belongs to the figure skaters, of course. Everyone knows that … except the hockey players, apparently.

It would be easier to shut them up, of course, if the All-State Figure Skating trophy and the All-State Hockey trophy on display in the cabinet in the lobby weren't both the same size. Then they could end this feud once and for all.

"You know, if your kids are going to spend so much time crashing into each other anyway, they should come over to our end of the ice and get some gear on, play with my team. At least they'd be protected."

Kurt sniffs. "Unlike you _heathens_ who bash into one another for fun, _we_ are perfecting our Mohawks. Falling is an unintended consequence of striving for technical perfection."

"Coach Hummel says there's no shame in falling," Lindsey points out, sticking up for her coach. "Falling means you're trying."

"He would know." Sebastian smirks. He may also take a peek at his boyfriend's behind, but he does it so quick, no one notices.

"Are you saying I fall a lot?" Kurt asks, a cool fire burning in his blue-grey eyes.

"No. Not at all," Sebastian says, desperate to backpedal. He's not afraid of what Kurt might do to him _now_. Kurt's can't embarrass him. He can take whatever Kurt can dish out, and serve it back better. But he's afraid of what Kurt might withhold later on. "What I mean is you try a lot."

"Good save."

"Thank you."

A boy in a black hoodie on Sebastian's right falls unprompted to the ice. Sebastian watches him land with an eyebrow arched.

"Hey, Kurt. He wouldn't happen to be related to that little boy in your pre-alpha class who's always wearing the puffy red jacket?"

"Findley?" Kurt asks, watching the boy climb back to his blades. "That's his brother. How did you know?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Just a lucky guess. I'll take him. Him I can definitely use."

" _How!_?"

"Are you kidding? The guy falls without warning standing completely still, which is apparently a family trait. Plus, he's a skilled enough skater to be in your gamma class. He's like a ticking time bomb. He'd be devastating!" Sebastian snickers, obviously with a picture brewing in his head of exactly _how_.

Kurt rolls his eyes, not only at his ridiculous boyfriend's even more ridiculous statement, but at the fact that Jonathan, brushing ice off the sleeves of his Under Armour hoodie, actually looks proud of it.

"If you're such the skater extraordinaire, why don't you strap on your figure skates and give us a little demonstration? You can show us the Mohawk. Or do you want to start with something easier? A waltz jump maybe? A scratch spin? A bunny hop?"

Kurt's students _ooo_ again while Kurt stares Sebastian down, waiting to see what he'll do.

"Hmph. Shows what you know, Hummel. I don't need to change into figure skates to demonstrate any of those. I can do them fine in my hockey skates. Watch this."

Sebastian sets up, sticking his arms out to his sides. He raises his right foot to plant his blade down behind him and push off, but he's forgotten his puck, which has migrated an inch or two behind him.

Kurt sees the impending danger, and this time, he has enough time to stop it.

"Sebastian, hold up," Kurt says. "Your puck …"

But Sebastian is too stubborn to stop once he raises his leg.

"Yeah. Right. Nice one," he says, but then a comical look of realization overwhelms Sebastian's face as the back of his blade clips the puck, hitting at just the right angle that even though he compensates to catch himself, his feet fly out from under him. He takes to the air, going horizontal, and lands flat on his back.

The gamma group gasps, sympathizing with his pain, but Kurt shakes his head. He glides over and crouches by Sebastian's side.

"That's okay," he says, patting Sebastian's shoulder. "Falling means you tried."


	5. Red Handed

**When Sebastian shows up late to coach one of his classes, everybody notices. What most people don't notice is that Kurt shows up at the same time. The only person who does notice also figures out what the two of them have been doing behind everyone else's back.**

 _ **A/N: I know, I know - I'm writing all of these one-shots. Where's the story? It's coming, I promise. These were all ideas I had that would have come after the ending, so they couldn't be included in the body of the story. Why am I putting these up first then? Because I wanna xD Also, I think I may have written something similar to this in another verse but, to be honest, I don't give a f**k. It's cute. xD**_

"Okay, okay! I'm here! I'm here! I'm whoo-shi-!" Sebastian slides three feet onto the ice, barreling on with his blockers still covering his blades. It's been a while since he's strapped on his figure skates, so his blockers weren't even a thought in his mind when he raced onto the ice.

Though compared to what he'd just been doing, he can't even remember when he laced up his boots.

Thanks to excellent reflexes, he manages to grab on to the swinging door of the penalty box and catches himself before he lays himself flat.

"Sebastian! Language!"

"Sorry, Jane!" Sebastian pulls off his blockers and tosses them under the bench. "And I'm sorry I'm late, guys, but I …"

"Uh … Coach Smythe?"

Sebastian twists his jacket, straightening the seams. It's not something he has to remember in his oversized hockey coat, but he does when donning the tailored, formfitting jacket that is part of his uniform when coaching the Ice Diamonds – Westerville's Tiny Tot Ice Dance Ensemble. "Yes, uh …" Sebastian looks at the group assembled around him, girls about twelve and thirteen, snickering and rolling their eyes.

"You're in the wrong lane," Jane informs him.

"Apparently," he says, matching one girl's glare before he turns and skates three lanes down to where his four- and five-year-old prodigies await.

"What happened to you?" Chandler - Sebastian's junior co-coach - gasps, which causes their students to gasp in unison. "You look like you were attacked by a badger!"

Sebastian meets Chandler's gaze eye to eye, and says in a monotone voice, "I was attacked by a badger."

"Oh … my … God! Are you serious? I was just guessing! That's just … that's just _awful_! Those things can be vicious!" Chandler exclaims with a hand to his chest, and Sebastian mentally slaps himself for forgetting that sarcasm and Chandler have never been properly introduced. Unfortunately, with twenty impressionable kids hanging on his every word, now's not the time for Sebastian to help make their acquaintance. "My uncle … you know my Uncle Terrance out in Toledo … he was almost mauled by a badger after he found one in his truck. He was out camping and …"

Sebastian groans and swivels away, leading his pack of ice dancers to the far end of the rink while Chandler continues on about badger attacks and camping trips and some anecdote about his grandfather Ivan who lives in Nova Scotia. He passes Kurt, who had taken to the ice at roughly the same time Sebastian did, but hadn't made as big a production of it, quietly gliding across to his own group of ice dancers – the six-, seven-, and eight-year-olds – and starting them on their warm-ups.

Jane claps her hands. "Okay, party people! Swizzles, lunges, and attitudes! Let's get warmed up!" Her skaters set out like butterflies in their pastel, long-sleeved leotards and flowy skirts, performing spirals to the other end of the lane. As they practice their elements, Jane steals an opportunity to watch Kurt and Sebastian with an amused twist to her lips, both boys leading their groups in such drastically different ways. Sebastian attempts to toss Kurt a smolder. Kurt smirks and shakes his head, not missing a beat with his dancers, and Jane can't help but laugh.

They may be fooling some of the people down at the rink, but they're not fooling her.

"You know, Sebastian's lucky he's an all-around national champion," Madison McCarthy, Jane's partner in crime for the afternoon, remarks as she joins the group. "Some of these parents eat you alive if you're even half-a-minute late, and yet he gets away with _three_."

"He's not the only one." Jane's eyes dart to Kurt, directing his group into a perfect wheel.

"What? Kurt?" Madison glances over at Kurt and his ice dancers, transitioning into a two line intersection. "I know they're dating, but he got on the ice before Sebastian. Didn't he?"

"Nope. They got on at the same time. But Sebastian was being such a fool, no one seemed to notice."

"What do you think they were doing?"

Jane chuckles. "I think they were making out."

"How? Doesn't Sebastian's uncle drive him to the rink? It would be pretty awkward if the two of them were going at it with him in the car."

"But Kurt's dad got him that SUV for his birthday, remember?" Jane points out, watching Sebastian finally demonstrate a move for his skaters, something other than _avoiding his co-coach_. "Lots of back seat space."

"Okay, I guess it's a possibility. But I need evidence." Madison giggles, interested now that things are getting dirty.

"Well, _look_ at him."

"Yeah. He's a mess," Madison agrees with a disappointed sigh. This isn't going to be any fun if Jane only points out the obvious. "It's a day ending in _y_."

"I don't mean _Sebastian_. I mean Kurt."

Madison scrunches her nose. "What? He looks flawless, as usual."

"No, he doesn't." Jane grabs Madison's jacket and tugs, motioning towards Kurt the second he pivots from a forward crossover to a backward one. "Look at his hair in the back."

Madison has to squint to see it, but she eventually notices it. It's not as conspicuous as it is with Sebastian, who has a tendency to look like he's just rolled out of bed and straight into his skates when he's not on his figures, but with the way Kurt normally keeps his hair, every strand meticulously combed into place, the few mussed pieces in the back stick out like a sore thumb.

"Oh my _God_!" Madison snickers.

"I know," Jane says. "They were _totally_ doing it."


	6. Second Chances

**For the first time in Kurt and Sebastian's relationship, Sebastian gets to have a little one and one time ... with Kurt's mother.**

 _ **A/N: This was another part of the story that came a little further in the future than the immediate end of the story, so I'm uploading it as a one-shot. It's basically just to let everyone know that no matter how angsty things get in the story, everything turns out all right in the end. Warning for angst, and mention of cancer.**_

"Oh, o-okay … whoa, now … WHOA!"

"Am I going too fast?"

"No, I just … can we make the ice less slippery or something?"

"You're doing great, Mom," Kurt says, holding his mother's hands as he leads a wobbly-kneed Elizabeth Hummel around the ice. Her legs inch slowly out to the sides, her toes pointing in at one another, and she slides to a stop. Kurt pulls. Her body moves forward, but not her skates, her toe picks catching on a perpendicular cut in the ice that keeps her from going any farther.

"Uh, Kurt … I think I'm stuck."

"I think you are, too."

Elizabeth throws her head back and laughs as Kurt maneuvers to her right side to help her over.

"Ha-ha! I can't believe I'm doing this!"

"I always believed you could," Kurt says, gingerly lifting her up and onto the flat of her blades. It takes him no effort at all, heartbreakingly hard for him to comprehend that a grown woman can feel so light. "You'll be doing double-axels again in no time. You watch."

Elizabeth shakes her head, her thin fingers clutching on to her son's shoulders for dear life. "You have far more faith in me than I deserve, honey."

"Mom, you've been done with chemo for how long and you're already back in skates?"

"That's because I'm insane."

"Maybe," he agrees, taking hold of her hands again, "but you didn't think you'd be able to stand for longer than a minute, and you're already doing so much better than the kids in my pre-alpha class."

Elizabeth looks at her son, a nostalgic smile lifting her lips at the handsome, talented young man he's become, with her blue eyes, but otherwise so much like his father. She risks letting go of one hand to press her gloved palm to his cheek. "That's because I have an excellent teacher."

He takes her hand and kisses it, eyes shimmering with tears that have been lingering there for months.

"Are you guys talking about me again?" Sebastian asks, sliding to a T-stop at Kurt's side. "Because it's just getting embarrassing now."

"Hey, Bas." Kurt leans left, accepting a kiss on the cheek. Kurt doesn't really do PDA, especially not in front of his mother. But the last few months of adjusting to his mom being out of the hospital – the excitement of her being in remission, the anxiety of not knowing whether or not her cancer will come back again, her complicated medication schedule, the list of approved and unapproved foods … He skates to remove himself from the ache in his chest that comes with helping care for his mother, and he screams silently behind his smiles when it gets to be too much. The only person he tells any of this to is his boyfriend. And Sebastian has come through for him, his pillar of strength when things get tough. So Kurt will accept all of the hugs and kisses from his boyfriend he can get, whenever he can get them

"Hey, Sebastian," Elizabeth says. "No coaching today? Or are you just over here annoying my son?"

"A little bit of both. Stick time isn't for another half-hour on the South Rink so I thought I'd join you guys."

"Well, we're glad to have you." Elizabeth beams as she slides by him at a snail's pace. "We need one more set of arms to catch me when I fall."

"You haven't fallen yet," Kurt reminds her.

"That doesn't mean I won't," she sings. "Even at my best, I think I landed my jumps on my butt more than I did my feet."

"Ouch." Sebastian chuckles. "And yet, you still won a gold medal."

"Meh. They were giving them out like Pez back then. I think the guy who drove the Zamboni got one."

" _Mom_ …" Kurt says, scolding his mother for being unnecessarily self-deprecating. Her doctor told him that one of the most important things he could do for his mother is to keep her upbeat. The road to recovery is hard. She can't expect to be back at 100% right away – even if that 100% was actually closer to 75% before the chemo. So no insulting herself, and no bringing herself down.

Some days, that's easier said than done.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she says, sweeping non-existent hair off her shoulders with a cocky shake of her head. "I'm _amazing_."

"Hey, Kurt! Can I talk to you a sec?"

Kurt looks over his shoulder at Jane, waving at him from the far side of the rink.

"Can it wait?" he asks. "I'm kinda busy."

"One of the boys in your alpha class wants to take private lessons. His parents say he asked for you specifically."

Kurt looks past Jane's shoulder out the glass and sees two people he recognizes as Barry Severson's mom and dad, smiling at him and waving like he's some sort of super star. Well, in this small pond, he kind of is. Admittedly, he's wanted to be for a while. Some days, he can't believe he did it. He fought and conquered; got the throne _and_ the guy. Someday he'll find a way to sell the movie rights to his story.

Maybe they can get Sterling Beaumon to play him.

"Okay," he says. "Just give me one second."

Kurt turns back to his mom, grinning at him with a pride that's almost painful to look at. Kurt thought his mom wouldn't live to see him win a medal. And now, here he was with a handful in his trophy case, along with students of his own earning medals, and he's not even in college yet.

But it wouldn't have mattered to Elizabeth Hummel if her son was a street sweeper, as long as he was a happy street sweeper.

"I can take care of your mom for a little bit," Sebastian offers, already reaching out to take her hands. "Unless you'd rather sit, Mrs. Hummel."

Elizabeth looks from her son to his boyfriend with a sly grin on her face. "No, I think I'd like to keep skating, thank you. You go, honey. Sebastian can take care of me."

"Okay. I'll be right back." Kurt gives her a peck on the cheek, then turns to Sebastian and points a finger in his face. "Don't you dare let her fall!"

"Really, Kurt? I'm surprised at your lack of faith in me."

Kurt stares at Sebastian, sees genuine hurt in his eyes, and sighs. "You're right. I'm sorry," he says, shelving a sarcastic remark because, in reality, the only other person he would trust on the ice with his mother beside himself is Sebastian. Sebastian knows how important Kurt's mother is to him.

He might play the fool sometimes, but he's also a responsible, compassionate person when it counts.

He'll do everything in his power to keep her safe.

Kurt hands his mother off. He glides backward a few feet, watching to ensure that Sebastian has everything under control, then changes face and heads off the ice.

Sebastian watches his boyfriend go, increasingly aware that he is now alone on the ice with Elizabeth Hummel, cancer survivor and one of the most important people in Kurt's life. Sebastian turns his attention to her, whose looking up at him still with that sly grin on her face.

"Well," he says, feeling awkward without Kurt there to act as a buffer between them. "Did you want to keep going around? Or did you want to go across?"

"Oh, I don't think I'm brave enough to go across just yet," Elizabeth says. "My eyes haven't adjusted to all the white ice."

"Okay. We'll just continue the way you guys were going then."

"Yes, please."

Sebastian holds her hands gently in his and starts backwards. Sebastian didn't know Kurt's mom before they started dating. Elizabeth Hummel only started accompanying her son to practices when her oncologist transferred her to a hospital nearby for treatment. She seems smaller not wrapped in the heavy blankets and jackets she brought with her to wear when she sat in the penalty box. Her hands, stuffed inside fluffy, red-knitted gloves, feel frail inside his, and he's afraid that if he squeezes too hard, he might break something. Suddenly, he's way more anxious being in charge of her than he was before.

He starts wondering if this is how Kurt feels when he's with her.

"You know, this is the first time that you and I have gotten to spend a moment alone together," Elizabeth says.

"Yes, it is," Sebastian replies, with a forced smile because he has no clue what to say.

"I didn't think you guys were going to make it at first. You had such a rocky start … then a rocky middle ..." Elizabeth teases Sebastian the same way Kurt does, with a tilt of her head and an innocent roll of her eyes. Sebastian would normally laugh, but he has too much pent up regret in his stomach to allow that.

"I know," he says. "And I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am."

"Well, Kurt's forgiven you, so I guess I can forgive you, too - bygones be bygones and all that jazz. Besides, it's not _me_ you have to worry about." Her lips draw tight, but her eyes still laugh.

Sebastian swallows hard. For a second, the ice tilts beneath him, then it pops back into place too quickly. "S-so I've been told."

Elizabeth savors the shade of pale her son's boyfriend becomes, but she can't hold on to her stern expression too long. She sputters a laugh. It comes out wicked, even though it isn't meant to be. "Don't you worry about Kurt's dad. He just wants what's best for his son. There were a few months there where he thought he would end up being a single father, and he was scared. But since I'm still around, I'll put in a good word for you." It's morbidly easy the way she says it, as if she didn't just mention the possibility of her own death and then dismiss it in the same breath. She must have thought about it a lot, Sebastian figures, if she can be so offhanded about it.

"I'd appreciate that," Sebastian says with a hard lump in his throat. He feels himself tearing up and fights against it, but Elizabeth notices, especially after Sebastian sniffs and looks away.

"Oh, Sebastian." She pulls herself closer as Sebastian slows to a stop. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to bring down the heavy or anything."

"It's not that. It's just … sometimes I think about how things were before Kurt and I started going out, how I used to treat him, not knowing about the things going on in his life, and I kind of can't help hating myself."

"Honey" – Elizabeth puts a hand on his shoulder and squeezes, offering comfort, but the lack of strength in her fingers does the opposite. It reminds Sebastian of what an incredible asshole he was while Kurt thought his mother was going to die – "you didn't know."

"Yeah, but I didn't need to to know not to be mean to him. And, to be honest, had I known, I probably would have still been mean to him because the only thing that mattered at the time was getting ahead."

"Well, is that the only thing that matters now?"

Sebastian shakes his head glumly. "No, it's not."

"Then I would say you learned a valuable lesson, wouldn't you?" Elizabeth attempts to give Sebastian a playful punch on the shoulder. He has to lean in to it when she fails to reach his arm.

"Yeah. Yeah, I would."

"Plus, it came with a pretty awesome ending, if I do say so myself." Elizabeth's gaze travels past Sebastian to the opposite side of the rink, where Kurt is saying his goodbyes to the Seversons and re-entering the ice. Sebastian watches him, bright smile aimed their way as he speeds over, and he can't stop smiling back. Kurt's smile has that effect on him.

 _Kurt_ has that effect on him.

"On your right, Smythe!"

Sebastian hears the boys coming before he sees them - two hockey players trying to force one another into the wall. A dodge and spin turns into one boy hitting it head on, and the other sliding to a stop too close for comfort. Sebastian jumps on instinct to avoid a hit, remembering Kurt's mom at the last second. At their close proximity, he manages to grab her around the middle and move her out of the way, but he underestimates her weight. It throws him off-balance, sending him toppling backward. He lands on his back with Kurt's mother squarely, and _safely_ , on top of him.

"Mom!" Kurt yells, putting on speed.

Elizabeth giggles, face and eyes glowing as she reaches out for her son. "I told you I was going to fall."

"Are you alright!?" But even with cheeks burning red, Kurt laughs through his worry. His mother looks positively joyful, struggling to get up off Sebastian's stomach.

"Yeah, baby. It's all good. Your boyfriend broke my fall."

"Yup," Sebastian groans. "Along with my spine."

"I guess he couldn't hold all 130 pounds of me, huh?"

"Mom" – Kurt grabs his mother's arms at the elbows and helps her up – "there's no way you're 130 yet."

"Believe me," Sebastian grumbles, waiting for Elizabeth to stand before he tries to move, "I think she might be."


	7. Snow Time

**Sebastian, trying to get his team hyped for their next game, keeps getting interrupted by three little girls yelling for their older brother to cover them in snow. When they don't stop, Sebastian plans to exact revenge but ends up with snow on his face ... literally.**

 _ **Notes:**_

 _ **Okay, yeah, I'm sorry. I couldn't help myself. Part of this actually happened at the rink, and I couldn't help writing it xD**_

"Okay, guys and gals! It's go time!" Sebastian announces, drawing his team in for a pep talk. "This is our _final_ practice before our game against Northwest High. They've come out strong against their last three competitors, stronger than we remember them …"

"Word, coach," Tyler says, shaking his head in dismay. "Did you catch their last match against Bryant High? Those poor suckers came up here all the way from Arizona and Northwest _slaughtered_ them!"

"Exactly," Sebastian agrees over worried grumbles and a few disparaging remarks. "Now, we're ranked higher, but that doesn't mean we can rest on our laurels. If they're bringing their A game, we need to bring our A-plus-one hundred game, right?"

"Right!"

"So we need to bring it harder on the defense! We need to be better at covering our goal! We need to not get distracted by …"

"Snow time! Snow time! Snow time! Snow time!"

Gritting his teeth, Sebastian glares over his shoulder at three little girls – 3, 5, and 8 - wearing sparkly dresses and cheering on their older brother. Dressed in a blue and silver costume meant to complement their outfits, he skates skillfully across the ice at top speed, pivots to his edges at the last minute, and sprays the doorway that they're standing in with snow. The girls giggle and yell at an octave that would make dogs howl if there were any nearby. It also makes Sebastian's muscles scrunch at the base of his neck, the mass tightening together into one hard knot.

" _Christ_!" Jordan groans. "That's the _fifth time_!"

" _That's_ not going to get old any time soon," Lorelei remarks.

"Nope," her brother says sarcastically. "Not at all."

"Let's just try to ignore them," Sebastian suggests, wondering where the hell Kurt was, seeing as those three girls, and their enabling brother, all decked out in their recital wear, are his responsibility since he's moderating the junior division of the Spring Hop going on one rink over. Sebastian scans the double doors that lead to the lobby, waiting for his boyfriend to swoop in and save the day.

When he doesn't, Sebastian scowls, then turns back to his group.

"All right," he continues, cringing when he hears the rallying cry of 'Snow time! Snow time! Snow time!' begin again. "Here's how we're gonna play this …"

But ignoring the girls is easier said than done seeing as every time their brother skates towards them, he manages to pick up a bit more speed, which results in a larger wave of snow.

And the larger the wave, the louder and more enthusiastic the cheering becomes.

Sebastian can only see one end to this, and he thanks God Kurt isn't around to witness it because it might make him a _wee_ bit cross. Considering they have a date after Kurt's own Spring Hop performance, including one of Kurt's scheduled make-out sessions, Sebastian wants to avoid a grumpy Kurt at all costs.

"Come on, guys! They want snow? Let's give 'em snow!" Sebastian grins like a jackal, and they all know what he's thinking.

"Yeah!"

"Come on!"

"This is gonna be great!"

The team hoots as they break from their huddle and rush to the other end of the ice, preparing to show those three little girls an epic onslaught of snow.

But the girls don't see them coming. Someone behind them gets their attention, and they walk away from the ice.

"Come on, guys. Let's not block the doorway. Besides, you're on in a few minutes. It's time to warm up."

"Aww!"

"All right."

"Comin'."

Sebastian, leading the charge, goes bug-eyed when he sees who's arrived at the wrongest time ever to collect the trio for their turn in the show.

"No!" He screams at his team. "Stop! _Wait_!"

But it's too late. Either the team doesn't notice, or (more than likely) they don't care, because they swivel to their edges in unison and slide to a stop, spraying not three little girls with an avalanche of snow, but Kurt, hitting his rhinestone-embellished performance pants with a fall of snow so thick, it soaks through every inch of fabric below his knees on contact.

Kurt gasps, staring at his slush-drenched pants, the material now a shade darker. He doesn't look up right away to reprimand the perpetrators of this crime against fashion, but closes his eyes and starts counting backwards from ten.

"Oh no …" Sebastian mutters. He assumes that Kurt is attempting to relax, but he's not quite getting there, his right eye twitching with his eyelid closed.

Sebastian stares at his boyfriend, too paralyzed to move. He knows he's about to get reamed for what he and his team did, but he's not going to run away like a bitch.

Besides, it wouldn't do him much good. Sebastian's fast on his hockey skates, but Kurt can pretty much fly in his figures.

Kurt sighs. He opens his eyes. He fixes a gaze on Sebastian's face so fierce, Sebastian drifts backward a foot. "Was that _really_ necessary, Smythe?"

"Uh …" Sebastian looks around, searching for help from his team, but they've all hightailed it to the far side of the rink. "Yes?"

Kurt crosses his arms over his chest, waiting for a better answer, but a second later, and to Sebastian's surprise, he shrugs. "Well, as long as it was _necessary_ for you and your pack of hyenas to try and drown three little girls in filthy ice, I guess there's nothing _I_ can do about it."

Kurt turns to leave. Sebastian stares Kurt down like he's crazy, ready to question his line of thinking even though he's getting away scot-free. But Kurt letting this lie doesn't mean anything. He probably has to get back to the recital and figures he'll deal with Sebastian later. At least Sebastian got away without a dozen blade marks up and down his back for the time being.

Sebastian returns to his team, the lot of them snickering to one another while looking simultaneously as confused and relieved as Sebastian.

"Oh, Sebastian? One more thing."

"Ye-?" Sebastian turns in time to receive two snowballs to the face, the second following fast after the first. One hits him between the eyes, the other square on the mouth, shooting snow up his nose and giving him an immediate brain freeze. Most of the snow melts on contact, dripping down his cheeks and chin, but some he has to spit out his mouth. He shakes his head to dislodge snow from his hair, and blinks away the bits that got too close to his eyes.

"Sorry, but that was _necessary_ ," Kurt mocks, brushing snow off his hands.

"That's … that's okay," Sebastian says, wiping the remainder from under his nose with his gloved hand. "I deserved that."

"Yes, you did," Kurt says, turning on his blockers and heading out of the rink.

"Uh …" Sebastian skates to the doorway, getting closer to a retreating Kurt so his team doesn't overhear "… are we still on for later, or …?"

Kurt stops walking. He pulls out his iPhone (from where, Sebastian has no idea considering his tight, _tight_ costume) and gives it a little shake. He peeks over his shoulder and winks. "Of course. You're my seven o'clock."

Kurt saunters out through the double doors, returning his phone to its secret hiding place, and Sebastian grins, trying to remember when exactly he started thinking that being "penciled in" to someone's schedule was so damn _hot_.


	8. Spring Hop

**Kurt's Spring Hop performance is full of surprises, including, but not limited to, an unlikely, quasi-friendship between Sebastian Smythe and Blaine Anderson.**

 _ **Okay, yeah, so sue me xD This comes right after "Snow Time". The song Kurt skates to is "I Need Your Love" by Shaggy watch?v=89NWLkC8sKQ, and this is the outfit he's wearing content/dam/slate/blogs/five_ring_circus/2014/02/13/evgeni_plushenko_sochi_2014_russian_figure_skater_bows_out_of_olympics_ . . Also, in case you're curious, the name of this story has changed from "Outer Edge" to "Outside Edge". Sorry for the confusion :)**_

"So, did you see him before he went to the back to get ready?" Blaine asks, trying, from the bleachers, to peek over the wall that separates the ice from the staging area.

"Yeah," Sebastian says, doing the same thing. He's got a few inches on Blaine, and he can feel smug about that, but it's not helping him. From their seats, they can't see anything but a few other volunteers, and the last two performers making their way to the bleachers.

"And how did he look? Was he nervous?"

"Nah, he's got this. I mean, he's been here all day helping out. And it's just a recital, not a competition. I don't think he's too nervous."

Sebastian doesn't want to be talking about this with Blaine. He wants to sit alone and fantasize while his handsome boyfriend dominates the ice. But now, he's sulking. He's making nice-nice with Mr. Sex-on-a-Stick for Kurt's sake, though it burns him to the core that Blaine Anderson isn't actually that bad a guy. In fact, outside of Kurt, Sebastian and Blaine actually have a few things in common. Some of the music Blaine likes that Kurt doesn't, Sebastian does. Same with movies, video games, and a few TV shows. And regardless of Sebastian's insecurities, Blaine is not trying to steal his boyfriend away from him.

But Sebastian is still miffed he's here because Blaine Anderson is, unintentionally, showing Sebastian up.

Blaine is wearing his signature leather jacket over a crisp, clean, red polo, indigo jeans sliding into black Magnum boots, the tops of which he's opted to keep stylishly untied. In his hand he's holding a single white rose – a present for Kurt, which he was gallant enough to run by Sebastian first to make sure it was okay, promising on pain of a toe pick to the groin that he wouldn't say word one to Kurt if Sebastian said no.

Yup, Blaine Anderson is a stand-up guy … the _ass_.

Sebastian, on the other hand, barely had time to get out of his hockey gear before racing across to this rink because practice went too long. He's still wearing his padded compression shirt and his hockey pants even though he brought a change of clothes with him. Unfortunately, they're still on their hanger in the locker room while he's sitting, mildly sweaty, beside a boy who looks like a GAP model and smells like an Armani ad.

"What was he wearing?" Blaine asks, completely oblivious to Sebastian's plight. "The blue outfit or the red?"

"He was wearing the blue one earlier," Sebastian says, annoyed that Blaine has this level of involvement in Kurt's life that Kurt discussed costume choices with him, "but he might have changed seeing as there was … uh … a small incident … involving snow."

"I see." Blaine smirks, which infuriates Sebastian. He has a feeling that, at some point during the day, Blaine Anderson found out _exactly_ what happened to the pant leg of Kurt's blue costume. "And you haven't seen his routine yet?"

"No. He wouldn't let me watch him practice. He said it was a surprise." Sebastian gets a venomous thought and asks through grinding teeth, "Have _you_ seen it?"

"Nope. He wouldn't show me, either. He said if I wanted to see it, I'd have to come here."

"And you came. _Yay_ ," Sebastian mutters, and a chuckling Blaine bumps him with his shoulder.

The lights lower, a signal to the audience that the next performance is about to begin.

"Ladies and gentlemen! The management, coaches, and instructors at the Westerville Ice-plex would like to thank you for attending this year's Spring Hop, showcasing some of the best students that our award winning skate school has to offer!"

Applause rises up from the audience, along with a few whistles, but Sebastian rolls his eyes. He hates the salesmanship of it all, but that's how the skate school runs. These recitals should be a chance for the kids to strut their stuff whether they're competitive skaters or not, but the reality is that without new students coming in, the skate school doesn't run. So every opportunity they have to sell people on it, they take it.

Kurt's performance will be no exception.

And the rink will get their money's worth since he's the one everyone in the stands is waiting to see.

Most performers only get a minute to perform, two minutes tops, but longer slots were reserved at the end for a handful of exhibition performances by top tier skaters. This would be the time Sebastian would be performing if he'd opted to participate. The last slot went to Kurt.

And the bleachers are packed.

"Now, for our final performance of the day, skating to a song he's dedicating to his boyfriend, Westerville Ice-plex's own premier junior hockey coach and six time gold medalist, Sebastian Smythe …"

A spotlight finds Sebastian in the audience and lights him up, and Sebastian's face goes white.

"What the …?" he mumbles past a forced smile, raising a hand to wave to the clapping audience. Sebastian isn't upset at being outed. If anyone from here to Timbuktu doesn't know he's gay and that he and Kurt are dating, then they're blind and stupid. It was announced on national TV, for corn's sake. And he had a feeling that Kurt would be dedicating his performance to him. Kurt had to have given his permission for that announcement to be made. He just didn't think that the Westerville Ice-plex would be progressive enough to make that kind of a statement, especially in front of this large a crowd.

The fact that no one is booing or leaving makes Sebastian a bit emotional.

"It's Pride Month, Smythe." Blaine snickers, giving him a shove. "Salute or something. Represent."

"Oh, I'll represent." Sebastian raises his other hand to give Blaine a completely different type of salute, but Blaine intercepts it. A second later, the spotlight returns to the ice.

"… put your hands together for premier junior skating coach and eight time gold medalist in singles and dance team, Mr. Kurt Hummel!"

"Wow. They don't give us intros like that over at our rink." Blaine says, applauding. "That was a little over-the-top, wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but he deserves it."

Blaine nods. "That he does."

Sebastian applauds till his hands sting as he attempts to outdo Blaine, but he almost misses his hand and smacks Blaine in the face when Kurt takes to the ice, circling with arms raised and garnering louder applause.

When Sebastian glances over at Blaine, the boy looks just as stunned as he does.

"Uh, have you seen that costume before?"

Sebastian has to swallow before he can answer. "N-no. Have you?"

"Nu-uh."

Both the blue costume and the red one, which Kurt had modeled for Sebastian days ago, were rhinestone embellished and tighter than healthy, as is Kurt's signature style in fashion on and off the ice. But both of those costumes are relatively tame compared to this.

What Kurt is wearing – skintight black pants and a sheer, long-sleeve shirt, the front a panel of black lace with a low-cut V-neck – is positively criminal.

Kurt sets up in the center of the ice, knee bent and arms raised, fingers covering his eyes in a Madonna-esque "Vogue" sort of way. The music starts, the sultry rhythm filling the rink, and Kurt begins to move.

 _I need your love,_

 _I need your love,_

 _I need your lo-o-o-o-o-ove …_

A hand through his hair, a sway of his hips, and the most seductive backward spin Sebastian has ever seen Kurt perform has the crowd in an uproar, but Sebastian doesn't cheer with them … because he can't pick his jaw up off the floor.

"Sebastian Smythe" - Blaine clamps a hand on Sebastian's shoulder and, for the first time, Sebastian doesn't shrug him off - "you are one lucky man."

"Yes. Yes, I am," he says. _In more ways than one._ Because Kurt's skintight outfit and his gorgeous body aren't the extent of his worthwhile attributes, neither is his incredible talent. Sebastian is lucky because Kurt is smart as a whip, witty, and fun. He can hold his own, he's confident, he's loyal.

He's compassionate, loving, and amazingly forgiving.

But Sebastian can't discredit the costume altogether, or the talented boy who designed and made it since that is Kurt as well. Kurt makes all of his costumes – another little tidbit that Sebastian discovered that makes him admire Kurt even more.

Kurt's first jump combination goes far towards not only showcasing his strength and supernatural flexibility, but also the expert fit of his pants, and Sebastian feels his own clothes become uncomfortable.

He isn't sure he'll be able to convince Kurt to keep that costume on during their scheduled make-out session, but he sure as hell plans to try.


	9. After Party

**After the Spring Hop, Blaine gets a moment to steal the show on a rival rink while Kurt and Sebastian sneak a moment alone together.**

 _You beatin' drum like dum di di dey,  
I love the dirty rhythm you play,  
I wanna hear you calling my name,  
Like hey mama mama hey mama mama …_

Blaine lands a picture perfect triple axel, earning him ooo's and ahhh's from the skaters on the ice.

Except from Sebastian, squeezing Kurt's hand in one grasp and his hip in the other.

 _He_ groans.

Sebastian pushes off the inside edge of his skate, keeping Kurt an arm's length away from his sweaty compression shirt as they waltz around the far end of the ice. Turning his back to the crowd, Sebastian doesn't see Blaine's next trick, but he can hear the commotion it causes.

"Show off," he grumbles, and Kurt laughs.

After Kurt's performance ended to thunderous applause (louder applause than Blaine's getting, Sebastian notes) and the Spring Hop was officially declared over, the organizers sent out the Zamboni to resurface the ice and lowered the lights. Then they opened the rink for an hour to give the skaters a chance to unwind after a stressful day of performing. Family and friends were invited to join in, so Kurt persuaded Blaine to stick around.

Which didn't thrill Sebastian any seeing as seven o'clock is fast approaching. His scheduled make-out session with Kurt is not an appointment he wants to miss out on because of Blaine "Third Wheel" Anderson.

Sebastian had promised to make nice with the guy, but there's just so much leeway he can give.

"Give him a break, Bas."

"Absolutely. Where do you suggest? An arm? A leg?"

"Don't act so tough. He's growing on you, and you know it."

"Yeah, well, so would mold."

Kurt chuckles, watching as Blaine starts to attract an audience that includes some of his own dance team students. Kurt shakes his head as they giggle and flirt, fawning over Blaine's jumps and spins as if they couldn't pull off those same moves themselves in their sleep. "Have a heart. It's not every day he gets to wow an audience in enemy territory."

Blaine pulls off a triple Lutz-triple toe loop combination that has a few teenage girls swooning, and Sebastian huffs.

"As if. And who brings their skates to someone else's recital anyway?"

"Sebastian! He keeps them in the trunk of his car! Same as you and me!"

Sebastian rolls his eyes away, embarrassed at being caught acting like a jealous boyfriend when he swore he'd do his best not to. "Yeah, well …"

Kurt pats Sebastian's arm with condescending sympathy. "Let him be. At least with everyone watching him, they're pretty much ignoring us."

Sebastian looks at the other skaters on the ice, still in their costumes, embellishing on moves they had nailed and going over ones they didn't quite pull off. A few wave at Kurt and Sebastian as they glide by, but for the most part, they're invisible - no bright lights coming out of nowhere to put them on the spot, but also no jeers or cruel jokes, or _threats_ , tossed their way. People smile when they skate by, some even sigh. They've become the romance of the decade down at Westerville Ice-plex – the ultimate rivals to boyfriends love story.

"It _is_ kind of nice," he admits, leading Kurt into a dance spin that faces Kurt away from Blaine. They swerve past a throng of younger skaters and back to the emptier end of the rink. "By the way, you were amazing tonight."

"You've already said that," Kurt says, cheeks going pink no matter how many times Sebastian compliments his skating. The whole thing was risky, from his song selection, to his outfit, to the dedication he made, but he pulled it off without a hitch.

His mother was right - the only chance you truly lose is the one you don't take.

"And you look _incredible_."

"You've already said that, too."

"And I'm gonna keep saying it till it stops being true."

"When will that be, do you think?"

"Probably never. Unlike me" – Sebastian sighs – "who looks like a hobo."

"You do not look like a hobo."

"Yes, I do."

"No, you don't. It's not humanly possible for you to look like a hobo. Not even if you _were_ a hobo."

"Yeah, well, I didn't plan on coming to your recital dressed like this."

"Oh no?" Kurt teases because _of course_ he didn't. Kurt _knows_ he didn't. He knows that the practice Sebastian was holding that afternoon was the last practice he could squeeze in before his team's next big game. Sebastian didn't originally schedule it for the same day as the Spring Hop. He'd even offered to help out behind the scenes with Kurt. But the practice got moved when the cooling system busted and had to be repaired. The potential for dangerous fume leakage kept the rink closed for one whole day.

"No," Sebastian says, not entirely sure whether Kurt is teasing him or not. "I have a really nice outfit hanging up in the locker room, one that would have made Blaine look like Montgomery Clift."

Kurt blinks at his boyfriend, confused. "How is that a bad thing? Montgomery Clift was a handsome man."

Sebastian leans in with a sly grin. "I mean _after_ the accident."

"Harsh!" Kurt makes a face that's both offended on his friend's behalf and amused by his boyfriend's cleverness.

"Sorry, not sorry." Sebastian takes Kurt's hand and twirls him; Kurt bends a knee up to spin on one skate. "I could always go change into it."

"Not yet," Kurt says, gliding back into Sebastian's hold. "I don't want to waste a single second that I have with you on the ice."

"Kurt, we're on the ice together every day."

"Like this?" Kurt asks, spinning into Sebastian's arms, then spiraling away.

"No," Sebastian admits. "Not like this."

"Now, if you would just hold me …"

"I told you before, I don't want to mess up your costume. It's too nice."

"Hmm …" Kurt looks thoughtfully toward the ceiling. "Well, you know what I think?"

"What?"

"Blaine Anderson could be wearing a Gucci tuxedo covered in diamonds while you were wearing a burlap sack, and you'd _still_ look more handsome than him."

Sebastian is about to point out that a Gucci tuxedo covered in diamonds would be gaudy as shit, but Kurt kisses him on the cheek and Sebastian goes all bashful. Kurt's kisses are Sebastian's kryptonite, especially the chaste ones he gives him in public since they happen to be the rarest. "Really?"

"Ah-ha. And you know what else?"

"What?"

Kurt slides forward, wrapping Sebastian's arms around his waist. Sebastian tries to pull back, but Kurt doesn't let him go. He holds him captive with his soft but strong hands, his mischievous eyes, and his playful grin. He makes a subtle motion with his chin towards the scoreboard clock on the opposite wall and bounces his eyebrows. "It's seven o'clock."

Sebastian doesn't catch on at first until Kurt starts skating backward, dragging them deeper into the dark.

"What?" Sebastian asks. "Here?"

"Uh-huh."

"You usually don't like that."

Kurt shrugs, his fingers creeping up the front of Sebastian's shirt, which clings to his muscles like his own skin. "Usually I don't."

"Wh-what if people start looking?" Sebastian whispers, his palms flat against Kurt's back, holding him closer.

"Meh. Let 'em look."

Kurt pulls Sebastian down to meet his mouth as other skaters cheer Blaine on, and Sebastian finds it fascinating how quickly a rink full of people can disappear the moment Kurt's lips touch his.


	10. Training a Diva

**Kurt and Sebastian work well together as junior co-coaches, but in the end, Kurt is still a professional skater, and Sebastian is still his coach.**

 **And, unfortunately for Sebastian, Kurt can be a diva when he wants to.**

"Right, left, right, left, glide, glide, turn, and jump! Jump! Jump! _Jump!"_

"I know about the jump, Sebastian," Kurt says, returning to his starting point on the ice, hands on his hips as he goes over the combination in his head. "I choreographed the jump, so I know it's in there."

"Then why aren't you _doing it_!?" Sebastian asks, demonstrating the entry and then performing the jump combination as a single instead of the triple that Kurt's going for. He isn't warmed up enough to pull off a triple, and besides, he's not trying to show Kurt up. He just wants him to do the choreography.

Kurt shrugs. "I guess I'm not feeling it right now."

Sebastian glides to a stop in front of him. "So when do you _plan_ on feeling it?"

"I don't know. But when I do, you'll be the first to know."

"Urgh!" Sebastian skates away, giving himself a lap to cool down. He wouldn't normally let his temper get away from him like this. As junior coaches down at the Westerville Ice-plex, they represent the skating school and their competition brand, so they do everything in their power to stay in check, even when faced with obnoxious kids and their more obnoxious parents. But as Kurt's professional skating coach, in the privacy of Sebastian's personal rink and with his boyfriend behaving like a diva, Sebastian gives his frustrations permission to run a little bit wild. In his defense, Sebastian's behavior right now is tame compared to the stage moms down at the Ice-plex, who yell and argue and threaten their kids without shame in front of an audience of paying customers.

Luckily for Sebastian, Kurt doesn't take it personally.

Sebastian comes full circle and returns to the spot where Kurt's going over the footwork that opens his program. He doesn't look up when Sebastian approaches him, but he does have the steel cojones to grin.

"Do it again," Sebastian says with force calm, "and this time, could you _please_ land the jump?"

Kurt peeks up through his eyelashes, his blue eyes dancing with humor.

"Okay, now, this is only a hunch, but I have the sneaky suspicion that you want me to … jump?"

"Yes, I do," Sebastian says through his teeth. "I do want you to jump. So jump."

Kurt snaps his fingers, and kisses his boyfriend on the forehead. "Jump. Gotcha."

Kurt sets up from a few moves before the entry and tries again. And as he skates, Sebastian marks the choreography off, this time in his head.

 _Right, left, right, left, glide, glide, turn, and jump._

Kurt enters the jump, but lets it drop at the last second, and Sebastian looks up at the ceiling with a sigh.

"Jump, Kurt! Jump!"

"Yeah, Sebastian. Jump. I got it."

"Well, if you've _got it_ , then _do it_!"

"I will, I will ... in a second."

"Why are you being a pain in the butt today?" Sebastian asks, getting up in Kurt's face.

"Why are you riding my butt so hard today?"

Sebastian whimpers at Kurt's remark. _There's_ an image Sebastian could happily think about all day long. It hasn't happened yet. They've discussed it, but neither of them is ready for sex. That doesn't mean Sebastian doesn't daydream about it – a _lot_. And Kurt knows it. That's why he drops innuendos like that one when Sebastian's being unreasonable.

Or a jerk.

"Technically," Sebastian says, focusing hard to keep his voice from cracking, "I am still your coach."

"Okay, so what do you suggest, _coach_?"

"I suggest …" Sebastian takes a deep breath in, then lets it out, finding his center – that space of calm he occupies during moments of stress that helps him see clearly "… a little more speed into the entry. Focus on your arm placement and your posture to keep you in control. Your right arm is dropping an inch, so keep an eye on that. And bring your leg up higher on the follow through, maintain your speed into the next combination. You'll need it if you don't want to snap your ankle on that fancy-ass footwork you came up with."

Kurt nods. He has to admit, what Sebastian says makes sense. Kurt needs a coach. For the longest time, Kurt didn't think he did. Of course, he couldn't afford one, so he convinced himself a coach wasn't necessary. But rationally, he knew he was wrong. He needs a pair of eyes on the outside to pinpoint his problem areas, to notice the tiny mistakes he makes when he's too caught up in the movements and the music. Sebastian is the only coach Kurt has ever had, and he's proven himself to be one of the best.

Professionally and personally, Kurt needs Sebastian. He wouldn't give him up for anything.

That doesn't mean Kurt won't give him grief from time to time.

"And what will you give me if I land it perfectly?"

Sebastian crosses his arms. "Respect."

"Okay, but what else?"

Sebastian rolls his eyes. Why Kurt is acting so childishly today, he has no idea. Everything's going okay with his school work and his mom's fine. His dad's shop is doing alright. Even this competition coming up is no biggie.

Of course, with Kurt, he could be acting like this just because.

"Land the combination cleanly, and we'll go into the house and make-out. Deal?"

"Deal," Kurt agrees with a mischievous grin. "So, you mean, like this?"

Kurt does a half lap around the ice as he prepares to go into the combination. Right, left, right, left, glide, glide, turn, and jump – he performs it as easily as if he had done it that way a dozen times before. Sebastian smacks his forehead with his palm and stomps his right foot, his toe pick digging a chunk out of the ice.

"That's _perfect_! Jesus Christ, Kurt! Could you do that the whole time?"

Kurt pulls a face. "Of course, I could."

"So … so why _didn't_ you?"

"Because it's more fun messing with you. Makes making-out hotter, too. Come on, _coach_. You owe me a sesh." Kurt takes Sebastian's hand and pulls him toward the door. Sebastian doesn't move, just lets Kurt drag him across the ice.

"Is it possible for a teenager to have a stress-induced stroke?" he asks as they reach the edge, Kurt already putting his blockers on his blades.

"Oh, yeah." Kurt hands Sebastian's his blockers. "Totally. Which is why you should really learn to chill out. Get a hobby, or join an organized sport. I hear that's good for stress relief."

Sebastian blinks at Kurt, expressionless. "I'll look into it."


	11. Fighting Words

**Sebastian and Blaine get stuck in line while trying to get to the ice where Kurt's warming up for his next competition. They're standing behind three girls making obscene remarks about Kurt. When Sebastian tries to defend him, they not only don't recognize Sebastian, but they don't believe that Sebastian is his boyfriend.**

 **And Sebastian doesn't take that well.**

 _ **A/N: I think I may have written something similar to this before in another verse, but I don't care. This turned out too good. :) I'm really enjoying writing this reluctant friendship between Sebastian and Blaine xD Thank you for sticking with this series, and please leave comments if you're enjoying it. 3**_

"I can't _believe_ we still aren't inside yet!" Sebastian taps his foot and checks his watch. "We've been waiting on this line for _four hours_!"

"With everything going on in the world these days, security's tight," Blaine says. "They're not taking any chances. They just want to make sure everyone stays safe."

"But we've got V.I.P. passes!" Sebastian gripes, flashing his pass in Blaine's face as if he doesn't have the exact same pass hanging from a lanyard around his own neck with his picture on it. "What is the purpose of having these damn passes, going through the nine other security checkpoints, getting patted down by Man Hands Dolores downstairs, and having our credit checked if we still have to stand in line like _everybody else_!?"

"They said there was a glitch in the system. I'm sure they'll have it straightened out in no time."

Sebastian sighs dramatically and hangs his head. "Look, Blaine, if this _friendship thing_ between you and me is ever going to work out, you've gotta stop being so damned accommodating. We are being inconvenienced here! At least have the decency to act upset!"

Sebastian lifts his head. Blaine looks Sebastian square in the eye.

"Those bastards," Blaine says flatly.

Sebastian gives Blaine an approving pat on the shoulder. "There you go, my dude."

"It probably would have helped if they hadn't put _coach_ on your uncle's pass instead of yours."

"Yeah, well, these people are ageist. No amount of gold medals is going to change that."

"Oh my _God_! Let us _in_ already!" a blonde girl in front of them whines over the heads of her two bored-looking friends. "I _need_ to watch the pre-competition warm-up! It's what we came here _six hours early_ for!"

"You see!" Sebastian points to the girl ahead of them, slamming her head against her friend's shoulder and making loud weeping noises. "Now _that's_ how you act when you're being inconvenienced."

"I'll make a note."

"They're streaming it on ESPN right now!" The friend that blonde girl isn't assaulting shows her her phone.

Sebastian takes out his iPhone and loads up ESPN in the hopes that he can catch a glimpse of Kurt. Since they've been together, Sebastian hasn't missed a warm-up yet. He's pissed off that he's missing this one.

"Oh look! It's Nathan Chen! He's here!" the sore shouldered friend exclaims.

"And Brendan Kerry! Oh my God! Isn't he gorgeous?"

Sebastian bobs his head as he watches the feed, craning his head as the camera pans as if he's going to be able to see past it and around the rink.

"Stand aside, ladies and gentlemen," blonde girl says, beaming at her phone, "because there's _my_ new boyfriend - Kurt Hummel."

Sebastian and Blaine snap their heads up and look at one another. Not seeing what this chick is obviously seeing, Sebastian peeks over her shoulder to take a look at her screen. She's streaming feed from ESPN 2. He quickly switches over.

" _God_ , he's handsome," blonde girl's friend agrees as Sebastian watches his boyfriend stretch against the boards, leg up, hands caressing his skate as if folding himself in half is no big deal. "I mean, look at those legs. And those hips. Those are some _thrusting_ hips right there."

"And those pants … _mmm,"_ blonde girl hums. "I wonder what it takes to get into _those_ , if you know what I mean."

"A dick," Sebastian says, disgusted by the running commentary about his boyfriend's body. Yes, his boyfriend is an attractive man. Sebastian gets it. That doesn't mean he necessarily wants to hear about the lewd fantasies of strangers regarding it, especially when said strangers are probably a good three to five years older than him.

"Specifically, _his_ dick," Blaine adds, bumping Sebastian's shoulder.

"What?" Blonde girl scrunches her nose. Then she laughs. "No way! You're trippin'!"

"Way," Sebastian says.

"Yeah, right. I don't believe you."

Sebastian's brow wrinkles, confused. "I don't want to pull a _don't you know who I am_? but … don't you know who I am?"

Blonde girl looks from one friend to the other, each shaking their heads. "Should I?"

"Well, believe it or not, I'm Kurt Hummel's boyfriend … _and_ his coach." All three girls stare at him for a moment, blank as a sheet of paper, then they laugh as if that comment is the punchline to the joke of the century.

"Stop frontin', alright?" blonde girl says through harder than normal snorts of laughter. "It's pathetic and sad."

Sebastian's face goes red. "You can actually _Google_ it, you know!"

"If you're his boyfriend, why aren't you down on the ice instead of up here, waiting on this line?"

"There was a glitch," Blaine says helpfully.

"Look, I'll bet you $50 that I can prove it to you in about fifteen seconds," Sebastian says, frustrated by this situation he's never been in before - not in a skating venue anyway. With success comes fame, and Sebastian doesn't begrudge his boyfriend any of his success, but Sebastian's no slouch. He won two gold medals here. His photo's in the lobby. He's been on TV! _With_ Kurt! How can these sheeple not know who he is?

"You're on," blonde girls says with the confidence of a person who thinks there's no way they can lose.

Sebastian goes to the photo gallery of his iPhone and brings up the last twelve pictures of him and Kurt together - some from the Spring Hop, a few candids from skate school that the Ice-plex put up on their website, and one of Kurt standing beside Sebastian, dressed in his hockey uniform, after Sebastian and his team won their last big game against Northwest High. He holds the phone up to her face and scrolls through the images, but she seems unimpressed.

"No _way_ those are real."

"What do you mean _no way those are real!_? I was there when they were taken! I _know_ that they're real!"

"I took some of them," Blaine says, raising his hand to be acknowledged. "So I can vouch for them."

"Gentlemen," blonde girl says condescendingly, "I'm no naïve sap. I'm what you might call a _professional fangirl_. And I know a manip when I see one." She leans in closer to Sebastian's phone to look at one particular photo of Kurt and Sebastian on the ice, performing a pair sit spin. "This one isn't even a _good_ manip. You can see the cut and paste right there." Her comment brings her two friends closer. "Do you see where it gets fuzzy in between? Right _there_?"

"Oh yeah," one friend says even though she doesn't really sound too convinced. But that's what best friends do – defend you even if you might be wrong.

"Yup. The colors on the costume don't even match," the other friend chimes in more certainly. "The red on the sleeve is much lighter than the red on the rest of the shirt." She tsks. "Definitely Photoshop. Learn to use filters, dude."

"I don't believe this!" Sebastian closes out the gallery and pockets his phone so that the heathens can't insult his pictures any more than they already have. He turns to Blaine with arms thrown in the air. "When did we cross the border into crazy land!?"

"Well, it's been over a minute and you haven't proven anything, so pay up," blonde girl says, arms crossed over her chest.

"Make me," Sebastian counters, taking a challenging step forward.

"Hey, Sheila," blonde girl's friend says. "Your man just left the ice."

"No!" Blonde girl looks back at her phone. "Dammit! I spent so much time arguing with this _loser_ , I missed his whole warm-up!" She glances at Sebastian and seethes. "Where do you think he …?"

"Sebastian! Blaine!"

The five of them turn as Kurt's voice rings down the walkway. Sebastian smiles at the sight of his boyfriend, blockers on his blades, jogging down the carpeted hall to meet him and Blaine.

"Ugh! I knew something went south when they split us up downstairs. Your uncle and I have been looking for you guys _everywhere_!"

"Kurt, we've talked about you running in your blockers," Sebastian scolds, the coach part of his brain kicking into gear at Kurt violating a small but important rule. "I don't want you twisting an ankle before your performance."

"Sorry, _coach_." Kurt giggles, sneaking underneath the retractable barrier and throwing himself into his boyfriend's arms. "You gonna spank me for it later?" he whispers, so low in Sebastian's ear that, even in the now pin-drop silence, no one, not even the girls creeping closer, can hear.

"Only if you're a good boy," Sebastian teases, his hand ghosting Kurt's ass before settling on the small of his back. "But that means finishing your warm-up and landing that jump. So let's get down to the ice."

"Yes, sir," Kurt says with a playful growl. "Oh, you'll need this." He switches out Sebastian's incorrect lanyard with a new one, the same badge and picture but with the addition of the word _coach_ imprinted in holographic lettering on the front. "And I got a new one for Blaine, too." Kurt turns in Sebastian's arms, grabbing his boyfriend's hands and reseating them on his hips when they fall away. He replaces Blaine's lanyard with one that has the word _assistant_ written across it in the same holographic lettering. "We'll have to get these old ones shredded downstairs."

Blaine looks at his new badge and smiles. "Thanks! But how did you get them to make these up so quickly?"

"Quickly!? It's been over _four hours_!" Sebastian scoffs, still not copacetic with how forgiving Blaine is. But that's one of the reasons why Blaine and Kurt get along so well.

They both have the same temperament.

They're both so damned forgiving.

"Thank Sebastian's uncle when you see him," Kurt says, cuddling close to his boyfriend's chest. "He ripped admin a new one for misplacing you guys and not doing a simple Google search when you checked in."

Sebastian flashes blonde girl a triumphant smile. She huffs and rolls her eyes away.

"But assistant what?" Blaine asks.

"I don't know. Assistant to me and Sebastian, I guess. But it means you can flash this badge and go everywhere we get to go, even if we're not with you."

"Sweet."

"Totally," Sebastian agrees. "So does that mean I get to send him running around for water and pens and small pastries?"

"Sure," Blaine says. "If you start paying me."

"It's an internship," Sebastian says. "You'll get paid in experience."

Blaine laughs, but Kurt slaps Sebastian on the shoulder. Or he tries to. Sebastian catches his hand by the wrist. Kurt looks at him, surprised. Sebastian smiles, biting his lower lip. Then, as if in silent agreement, they kiss. It's short and sweet, but long enough to earn them a few _aww's_ and a couple of photo snaps.

"I missed you," Sebastian whispers.

"I missed you, too. Let's get out of here. I still have a warm-up to finish." Kurt bounces his eyebrows.

"Absolutely."

Kurt starts to walk away, but Sebastian keeps him tethered by his hips. He turns to the three girls glowering behind him and puts out a hand. He makes a _give me_ motion with his fingers and blonde girl groans.

"All right!" she concedes, begrudgingly handing over two twenties and a ten.

"Thank you," Sebastian says, shoving the bills in his pocket. He takes Kurt's hand, kisses it, then leads him underneath the barrier and down the hallway to the elevator.

Kurt looks from a smug Sebastian to an amused Blaine. "What was _that_ all about?"

"He made a bet and he won," Blaine says simply, not eager to rat out his new _friend_.

"And you didn't stop him?"

"Have _you_ ever tried to stop your boyfriend doing anything? Plus, I've seen your man play hockey. I'd like to keep my limbs, thank you."

Kurt makes an agreeing face, wrapping his arms around one of Sebastian's as they stroll towards the elevator. "Fair enough."


	12. The Pain

**While Sebastian evaluates new recruits for the Ice-plex's J.V. hockey team, one of his wannabes gets in hot water with Kurt when he cuts off a figure skater.**

 **Tensions run high and secrets are revealed.**

"Alright! Thank you so much, guys and gals, for showing up to this year's hockey team tryouts!" Sebastian glides down the line of potential recruits, dropping pucks in front of them while he speaks. "It's been a long three days of drills, but we've finally narrowed it down to you guys." Sebastian stops to give the kids in front of him - holding their sticks at the ready, waiting for their chance to be unleashed and show their stuff - a stern once over. "You should be proud of yourselves. That's a _huge_ accomplishment." They hold themselves a little straighter, a little taller for Sebastian saying that. "Before we begin, a little background for those of you who may not already know ..."

Sebastian knows a handful will already know what he's about to say. These kids have been raised at this rink. They could skate before they could walk. Sebastian has seen a few of them grow up here. He's been their junior coach for the past five years.

God. He's only a teenager and already he feels like an old man.

"Westerville Ice-plex has four leagues – junior boys, junior girls, and our two co-ed top tiers, J.V. and Varsity. J.V. are the Ice Dragons and Varsity are the Fighting Titans. You guys are here to become … _Dragons_." The boys and girls clap and high five one another. "The Westerville Ice Dragons are not just any team. We don't just win tournaments and bring home trophies. We also do exhibitions, volunteer workshops, charity events, community service, highway cleanups, you name it. Becoming a member of this team isn't only about your skills on the ice, it's about who you are as a person. Yes, we have only one captain and one co-captain, but all of you are expected to be leaders. In order to stay on this team, we need to see community involvement outside of the rink, and we need to see good grades. If you need help in either of these areas, we have more than enough people here to help you. But if you start to lag without asking for help, you'll be removed to second string. Is that understood?"

"Yes, coach," the kids say, staggered between nervous swallows.

"90% of the players who have ever been on either the J.V. or Varsity team have received offers of scholarships to some of the best schools in the nation. Ice Dragons and Fighting Titans from the past three decades have attended every Ivy League school in the country. Our players are so sought after that one of the Titans' best goalies received the offer of a full scholarship to Penn State, and he only played one season."

"Wow."

"That's amazing!"

"Who is that, coach?"

"Oh, you've all seen him if you skate here regularly, you probably just don't know it." Sebastian smiles deviously. "We call him _The Pain_."

"Why? Is he a jerk?" one girl scoffs.

"No," Sebastian says with a hint of glower. "He's the best goaltender we've ever had. Faster than lightning, almost superhuman fast. He can anticipate most any move. And he's _fearless_. No one could get anything by him. That made him a pain in the ass," Sebastian grumbles, acknowledging that that means _he_ couldn't get anything by him either. "Anyway, we have five spots opening up and seven of you, so obviously a few of you will not be making first string."

"Make that eight." Another boy, suited up and with stick in his hand, slides to a stop at the end of the line. "Sorry I'm late, coach. I had a little trouble making my way over here." He jabs a thumb behind him, but Sebastian doesn't follow it, focused on the boy who skidded in over fifteen minutes late as if that kind of behavior would be excused.

"You know, we value punctuality on this team," Sebastian says, arms crossed, "so this doesn't look good for you."

"Sorry," the boy says, not sounding all that sorry. "Like I said, not my fault."

"Hey! Hey you!"

Sebastian looks over the boy's shoulder when he hears his boyfriend's voice, and even though he sounds madder than hell, Sebastian can't help smiling.

"Hey, Kurt. What's up?"

"Your little latecomer there almost knocked over a figure skater!"

Sebastian looks at the boy for a reaction. There's really only one acceptable reaction in this situation … and the boy doesn't give it.

"Well, they need to learn to get their fruity asses out of our way," he says with a superior smirk.

Kurt slides to a stop – a _hockey_ stop in his razor sharp figures - spraying the boy's skates with snow, which makes him seethe. "They're practicing in _their_ section!" Kurt says, leaning in to talk into the cage of the boy's helmet. "You have _no right_ to cut them off! We're sharing this rink until the other one's resurfaced! No sport takes precedence on the ice here!"

"Uh, I'd check again," the boy has the nerve to clap back, "because last I looked, hockey has the tallest trophy in the case after last Friday's game." He glances to the side, expecting support from the other hopefuls in line, but they've already started to back away.

Sebastian can see Kurt getting steadily angrier, but he manages to keep his cool. "Well then I'd get your eyes examined because _technically_ , after last Sunday's competition, figure skating has the tallest trophy. I know because it happens to be _mine_. And _I'm_ telling _you_ that no sport here takes precedence on the ice. You knock over one of my skaters, and you're out of this rink. I don't care who you are or what team you're on. And there isn't a single coach here, junior or senior, who won't back me up."

The boy rolls his eyes but Kurt doesn't let that rile him. He looks at Sebastian, staring back at the two of them with hard eyes, and says, "Keep your boy in check, Smythe. This is the only warning he gets."

Sebastian nods. "You got it."

Kurt turns on his blades and heads across the ice.

"That's right," the boy mutters. "Sashay away." The boy flips his stick and taps the heel on the ice, knocking one of the pucks into another. He takes a peek around. No one's paying attention to him. Coach is watching that obnoxious figure skater skate towards the penalty box while the other kids trying out for the team have clustered as far away from him as possible, not even trying to be inconspicuous.

Then there're the line of pucks, sitting on the ice, in perfect firing formation.

At that moment, he decides that there's no reason for him to be the outcast here. He didn't do anything wrong. Everyone knows that hockey is where the money is for any rink worth a shit.

So he's not about to be told off by a frickin' _figure skater_.

Sebastian doesn't know how Kurt sees it. Sebastian didn't see it, too preoccupied with watching Kurt skate and trying to decide how best to handle his newest troublemaker. The odds of him being Ice Dragon material are slim, but he can't just cut him loose now. But what if he causes problems later on? With that attitude, how the heck did he even make it this far?

However Kurt sees it, thank God he does, because a hit from a puck at speed anywhere on the body can devastate a skater, hence the full body armor hockey players wear during every game. Rink management even requires that their hockey players wear skates with Kevlar guards after one player's career ended when a shot to the ankle shattered the bone. A strike anywhere on Kurt's body could be a career ender, and if not, the amount of time it would take him to recover might derail him regardless.

But Kurt swivels out of the way just in time to avoid a puck to the thigh. He storms back over, a glare in his blue eyes that would stop a charging bull elephant in its tracks.

The boy chuckles nervously, backing away in surrender with arms raised. "Oops! Sorry about that. That one just slipped."

"I'll bet," Kurt says. Sebastian arrives at his side in a second without any idea if he skated over to hold Kurt back, or to hold the kid down while Kurt punches him. "Shooting a puck with the intention of striking another skater is grounds for immediate disqualification from any team at Westerville Ice-plex. Get off the ice."

The boy's smile turns into a scowl. "What!?"

"He's right," Sebastian says. "Get to stepping. _Now_."

"No way! This is bogus!"

"No, what's _bogus_ is you thinking you could assault another skater and get away with it," Kurt says. "You're lucky I don't report you to the police!" The boy looks relieved until Kurt adds, "But I _am_ reporting you to the league. Don't expect to skate in competition any time soon."

The boy stares for a second, mouth agape, searching for the right cutting remark that won't just win his argument, but get him on the team. That would show up that stupid figure skater! It would shut him up real good. But, in the end, he decides it's not worth it. There are other teams, _better_ teams … somewhere. He's sure that there's no way they can make good on their threat. They can't keep him from playing.

He'll show them.

"Whatevs," he says, taking his stick and skating off the ice. He cuts through the penalty box to avoid coming into contact with anyone else. Sebastian watches him go until he disappears into the lobby and he can't see him anymore.

"I gotta send my kids to the other rink." Kurt gives Sebastian a reassuring smile and skates away. Sebastian sighs. More than likely, that kid gets his attitude problem from his parents. Parents, in Sebastian's experience, tend to be more aggressive than the players, and that's really sad, because a player like that boy, with an admittedly kickass slapshot, might end up benched because he can't get his ego or his attitude under control. But Lord knows he probably didn't start out that way the first time he strapped on skates.

Sebastian's mom used to say there are no bad kids, only bad parents. He used to think that was a stupid excuse, that everyone is responsible for their own actions no matter what their age. But the more bad kids he meets, the more bad parents he sees.

The more the saying fits.

"Now that that's over, let's get these tryouts rolling, shall we?" Sebastian says, finding his upbeat attitude again. "You're going to give me ten laps around the ice. You're going to give me twenty pushups on your fists. You're going to show me your best shoot the duck, Russian lunges, belly slides, knees spins, and edge work. And after you've warmed up, you'll be evaluated - individually and as a group. This isn't the time for showboating. Your best chance at earning a spot is by showing us you're willing to put the good of the team above yourselves. We wanna see how you handle the puck, how you pass, how you shoot, and how you approach the goal."

One girl raises her hand, and Sebastian points to her. "Yes?"

"You keep saying _we_ , coach."

"Yup," Sebastian says. " _We_."

"Is that like … the royal _we_?"

" _He_ would say so."

The boys and girls look around, but they don't see anyone else except a spattering of figure skaters exiting the ice, and Kurt, circling back their way.

"Who's _he_ coach?"

"Yeah. Who's gonna evaluate us?"

Kurt stops beside Sebastian, giving the boys and girls a bright new smile and a wave, as if the tension from before had never happened.

"Hey, guys," he says. "Let's get down to business."

The kids look down the line at one another, confused, but Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt's shoulder and smiles.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe you all know Kurt Hummel - ten time gold medalist and the pride of Westerville Ice-plex."

Sebastian hands Kurt his hockey stick. He weighs it in his hands, then flips it around his wrist. It spins three times before he catches it, slapping the blade on the ice. Only then do the kids notice that Kurt has changed out of his figures and into hockey skates.

"But around here," Sebastian continues, "we call him _The Pain_."


	13. Live More Fear Less

**Moving on can be a bittersweet accomplishment - full of joy and excitement, but also sadness for the things left behind. A few days before leaving Westerville and moving on with their lives in Ithaca, both Kurt and Sebastian are saying goodbye to what they know ... and taking a step towards cementing their future together.**

 _ **Okay, I'm writing a few things out of order, and I apologize. I just want to put stuff up after I write them so they're not sitting around forever. This is actually the first of two one-shots that would end the one-shots before the sequel, if that makes sense. But where's the actual story!? I know, I'm awful. But I loved this so much, and I wanted to reassure everyone that Kurt's mother especially stays ok. Also, I will explain later why Kurt and Seb wait this long for ... well you'll read it in the story. Please let me know what you think :)**_

When Sebastian walks through the double doors of the Westerville Ice-plex, it's going on seven-thirty. Behind him, the sun has begun to set. It's been setting earlier and earlier these days. Being close to the end of summer, things are relatively quiet outside as families prepare for the inevitable start of school. This is the time of year that Sebastian loves the most, the air heavy with expectation, the world so full of possibility.

It's a time that heralds the start of _something_ , and for him, it's always been something good.

He hadn't necessarily been looking for his boyfriend when he took a break from packing to go for a sunset drive. He knows Kurt is spending some extra time with his parents before he and Sebastian head off to Cornell. Cornell has been Sebastian's dream school since forever. Going there will give him the opportunity to continue playing hockey and, along with coaching Kurt, major in journalism as his fallback career. That way, he can become a sports commentator when his days on the ice are over – whenever that may be. He could also start a blog or write a book. The possibilities are endless.

Kurt, on the other hand, doesn't necessarily _want_ to attend college. He just wants to skate professionally and hang out with Sebastian. But between competing and training, he wants _something_ to do, and besides, it would be nice to attend a school where kids don't shove him into lockers and throw him into dumpsters.

Not that they do anymore. They haven't in a long time, thanks to Kurt's big win.

Still, starting over with a clean slate appealed to him.

Kurt applied to Cornell on a whim because he wanted to attend the same university as Sebastian, but he would have been happy attending a college nearby if that didn't work out. But Sebastian had no doubt Kurt would make it. Not only are his grades exceptional despite the angst he suffered in high school, he's among the skating elite. A household name. They would be idiots not to accept him.

So basically Kurt is attending an Ivy League school _just because_ , and majoring in performing arts.

Kurt had imagined that, if he wasn't a skater, he'd love to perform on the stage.

But when Sebastian drove by the rink, he saw Kurt's SUV parked out front – only one of three cars in the parking lot. It's after hours, so why Kurt would be there, Sebastian was all too curious. He parked beside Kurt's Navigator, then he went inside.

He takes his time strolling through the lobby, perusing the things that have been such an important part of his life for over a decade. He looks at the trophy case packed full of awards and medals, and smiles, because a great deal of the accomplishments represented there have something to do with him and Kurt. It's a symbol of their rivalry, their friendship, and their love. The story of their lives together sits in that trophy case, as well as the lives of everyone else they've touched – teams they've coached, students they've taught, the people who have taught and helped _them_. He looks at the plaques hanging in the back which list the team member rankings. He remembers when Hunter Clarington's name was at the top of most of those, immovable and irremovable. But now, his name is nowhere to be seen.

Soon it will be the same way with Sebastian and Kurt, but not for the same reasons. For better ones. Hunter left Westerville Ice-plex on a downward spiral, but Kurt and Sebastian moved up and are finally moving out, leaving Westerville as winners, and making room for the winners to come.

Their photos, however, will hang in the lobby indefinitely – a benchmark to other figure skating and hockey hopefuls of what they can accomplish through hard work, dedication, and talent. Sebastian passes by them, hanging side by side. He blows Kurt's picture a kiss before he heads to the South Rink, where Kurt will most likely be if he is here skating.

Sebastian does find him there, but he isn't skating.

There's one person on the ice, but it isn't Kurt.

Kurt stands leaning against the open doorway to the rink, watching a single skater do laps around the ice.

"Hey, babe." Sebastian slides up behind him and puts his arms around his waist. "You're here late."

"I rented out the rink for a few hours." Kurt turns his head to kiss Sebastian's cheek. "Well, actually, I tried to, but Mike said I could just have it till eight, seeing as it's a Tuesday and nothing much is going on."

"Whatcha doin'?" Sebastian nuzzles into Kurt's neck. "Scopin' out a hopeful?"

Kurt chuckles. "You might say that."

They'd both been doing a lot of that lately, helping pick out the coaches and the teammates who would replace them. Kurt and Sebastian have dedicated a significant amount of their time to Westerville Ice-plex. Replacing them both meant finding new hockey coaches, new dance team coaches, new skating school teachers. It's exciting to fill those spots and pass the baton, but it's also bittersweet.

It's a task they didn't anticipate being this hard.

"So, who have we got, hmm?" Sebastian looks over Kurt's shoulder at the person circling the rink. He squints past the black rollerblading helmet, the padded shorts, the bulky knee and elbow pads, the Cornell hoodie, and gasps. "Is that … your mom?"

"A-ha," Kurt says with pride in his voice.

"But … she's on hockey skates!"

"Yup."

Sebastian watches in awe the woman who, less than a year ago, could barely stand, not to mention make her way around the rink without Kurt's help, zip around the ice as if she had been born with blades on her feet.

"She's incredible," Sebastian says. "But why did she pick hockey skates? Wasn't she a figure skater?"

"She was, but she says hockey skates help her feel the ice better."

"Yeah, well, I'll agree with that. Those look pretty pro," Sebastian remarks when Elizabeth circles round again. "Did you sweet-talk someone at Bauer or something?"

Kurt shakes his head, snickering at his boyfriend's teasing. "Carl in the pro shop was nice enough to give her those. He said that they're display models and he can't sell them, but …" Kurt lets the sentence dangle because they both know that's not the case. With as popular as hockey is in their town, Carl could probably charge full price for them and get it. "He sharpened the blades, gave her a nice shallow hollow so they'd glide more like her figure skates. It took her a lap or two to get used to them, but after that …" Kurt doesn't finish. He simply points to his mother leaning in to the next turn on the outside edge of her left blade and racing down the straightaway. "She told me that back in the day, her coach would put the figure skaters in hockey skates when they started relying too much on their toe picks."

"Makes sense." Sebastian smirks at the thought of half of their Synchro Skate team in hockey skates. They'd master them eventually, but that first hour or two of bitching and whining would be hilarious.

"But, also, when someone got seriously injured, like a broken leg, and they were too cautious on the ice, the coaches would put them in hockey skates to help them get over the fear."

Sebastian's brow pinches. "How would that help?"

"Well, being in hockey skates when you haven't before is _terrifying_!" Kurt laughs, remembering his first time in hockey skates. But he was with Sebastian, in his boyfriend's private rink. It was scary and exhilarating all at the same time. "But if you can skate your routine in them, you can do anything." Kurt watches his mother take the next lap solely on her left foot and sighs. "I can't believe how good she is, and that's not all talent. You can have all of the talent in the world and never have the strength to let it show. But my mom … she's the most fearless person I know."

"And she raised a fearless son."

"You can't compare what I've been through to cancer." Kurt slides his arms over Sebastian's, running his palms over his boyfriend's skin in search of comfort. "I mean, cancer trumps _everything_ , especially the type my mom has-d." Kurt waffles between _has_ and _had_ when he talks about his mom being in remission. It's difficult for him to act like it's a part of the past when it keeps cropping up unexpectedly. Cancer is the dark shadow in their lives. It won't ever completely go away, and he'll never be able to relax knowing that the scars of it still exist in his mother's body.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean you haven't been through some shit. And you made it through smelling like roses, with everyone telling you you couldn't." Sebastian sighs. "E-even me." Kurt leans back into Sebastian's embrace. Apparently, Kurt's not the only one in need of comfort. A lot of sins have been committed on this ice, many of them against Kurt. But a lot of atonement, too. It's been a long time since Kurt's forgiven Sebastian for the things his boyfriend did to him _before_ they became boyfriends. Sebastian needs to learn how to forgive himself. "Don't count yourself out, Kurt. That's a big accomplishment. I'd call you fearless."

"I don't know about that."

"Why not?"

"Because I _am_ afraid."

"Of what?"

"The future. Before I met you, before I went to that competition and won that gold medal, I had nothing to lose. When I looked into the future, all I saw was me working in my dad's shop. No college, no career. That competition was literally my last shot, and I took it because I couldn't get any lower. But now, I have everything – a college acceptance, an apartment of my own, a man that I love to share it with, a career in the sport of my dreams ..."

"And you deserve it. All of it."

"But it's too much to lose."

"Don't think of it like that," Sebastian says.

"But it's true. When you're at the bottom, everyone says that there's nowhere to go but up. But when you start getting the things you want, you have to keep climbing while you take those things with you. It just feels like the more you earn, the more you're teetering on the edge of dropping everything and losing it all."

"Well, then, instead of thinking of it as climbing a ladder, carrying all of the wonderful things in your life with you that you could drop at any second, think of it as foraging ahead, with everything in your life laid out before you. And if you misplace something or pass it by, there's always a chance to turn around and get it back. Or find something different and better up ahead."

Kurt gives Sebastian's words a chance to sink in before he thinks of a way to react. He'd never thought of it that way before. He always pictured himself as being shoved down to the floor, the way he was so often in school when he was bullied. And when he was low, his plans were ways of going up, not forward. Walking straight ahead is much easier to do than climbing up. "Yeah. I think I like that better."

"But no matter what, I'll walk with you, as long as you want to, to see you through the rough spots," Sebastian says, resting his chin on Kurt's shoulder. "There's a whole world of firsts waiting for you and me. Don't be so afraid of losing something you have that you don't take the time to enjoy it while you have it."

Kurt watches his mother switch directions, taking the turn closest to them in reverse. He assumed she would wave at him, but she doesn't – so focused on what she's doing that it's almost like he isn't there. Her signature bright smile is absent from her face, but that doesn't mean she's not enjoying herself. It's _because_ she's enjoying herself that she looks the way she does, thoroughly absorbed by this thing that she's worked so hard at with not a single thought that it's going to be pulled out from under her.

She's blissfully lost in the moment.

He wants to be the same.

"Sebastian? Do you want to be with me?"

"Only forever."

Kurt smiles. He can't argue with that. "I mean, do you want to be with me … tonight?"

Kurt feels Sebastian swallow. He winds his fingers with Kurt's and squeezes. "A-are you sure you're ready? I mean, we haven't talked about it for a couple of months," he says, laying a kiss on Kurt's shoulder.

"I am. I have been, I just … I didn't know how I wanted to tell you."

"Then yes," Sebastian says in a softer voice. He places a second kiss over the first and rests his temple against it. "I do."

"Okay. After I take my mom home, we'll meet up at your house, if that's alright."

"That's … that's perfect. I'll go home and get things ready," Sebastian says, remembering that a great deal of the things in his room have been packed, a lot of boxes standing in the way of the door and his bed. He straightens to leave, but Kurt pulls his hands back around his waist.

"Don't go yet," he whispers. "Just … stand here with me a little while longer? I feel like we've stood here in this same spot a hundred times, but the moment I walk out the door, it'll just bleed away. I don't want to forget what this feels like."

Sebastian holds Kurt tight in his arms. "I won't do anything until you're ready," he says. "I promise."


	14. The Talk

**After watching Kurt and Sebastian say goodbye "for now", Elizabeth figures out what's going on between the two of them, and decides it's time for a little talk with her son.**

 _ **A/N: I decided to have a little fun with the idea, "What would have happened if Kurt got the 'sex talk' from his mother instead of his dad?" :) I hope you like Elizabeth Hummel as much as I do. Let me know in the comments 3**_

"Hey, Sebastian! I didn't know we'd be seeing you tonight!"

Sebastian opens his eyes when he hears Kurt's mother say his name. He'd been standing against the doorway with Kurt in his arms, running his fingers through Kurt's hair and enjoying his boyfriend's warmth blending with his own in the chill climate of the rink, the scent of jasmine and orange in Kurt's hair overwhelming the smell of chlorine and refrigerant in the air. Sebastian had had every intention of bowing out quietly before Kurt's mother finished her laps, but he'd drifted away into thoughts of the countless times they've stood here before watching their friends perform, watching their teammates play, watching new students learn to take their first glides on the ice.

He hadn't noticed how much time had gone by.

But as Kurt's cell phone alarm goes off in his pocket, Sebastian becomes aware of their surroundings. It has to be after eight by now, and Kurt's mom is skating towards them with a huge smile on her face to say hello.

"Hey, Mrs. H," Sebastian says, extending an arm for a hug. "I was just passing by and I saw Kurt's Navigator. I didn't mean to intrude."

"Nonsense," Elizabeth says, sneaking an arm around Sebastian's back to snag a longer hug. "You're family. You're welcome to drop in any time."

"Thanks. You were lookin' good out there."

"Don't I?" She glides back a step and performs a small scratch spin, pulling her ponytail out of its tie so that her chestnut hair – the same shade as Kurt's – spills to her shoulders. "Pretty good for an old lady, huh?"

"I'd say you're doin' pretty good for Connor Murphy."

"You're sweet," she says, pinching Sebastian's cheek.

"Unfortunately, that alarm means I need to get my mom home," Kurt says, fishing his phone out of his pocket and switching off the musical trilling.

"Aw," his mom pouts. "Party pooper. I was just getting warmed up." She swivels backward and her knees wobble, attesting to the opposite.

"Be that as it may," Kurt says, choosing not to mention it as part of his argument, "it's getting late, and I know Mike'll want to lock up soon."

"I guess we should let the poor man go home to see his wife and kids."

"Yes, we should."

Sebastian smiles at their back and forth joking. So often it seems like Kurt's the parent and his mom the teenager. It's such a lighthearted and comfortable relationship. They have a closeness that's unique to them, a special connection that Sebastian has never seen between a mother and son. He doesn't know if it has anything to do with Kurt's mother being sick, the amount of time they spend together, or the fact that they have skating in common, but Sebastian envies it so much.

Sebastian's parents aren't bad people. They're not even bad parents. They're just emotionally unavailable. They'd tell anyone who'd listen that they got to where they are in life through hard work and sacrifice, and they feel like everyone else should, too (even if that does discount a crap ton of luck, privilege, connections, and a sizable trust fund on both sides). The problem is that they chose to have a family when they enjoyed being childless more. They make time for work and they make time for each other, but there never seems to be enough time left over for Sebastian.

Sebastian always had the love and attention of his uncle Chris, and he was grateful for that, but it wasn't exactly the same.

Kurt's parents have done so much to make Sebastian feel like a part of their family, especially Kurt's mom – Friday dinners, movie nights, Sunday afternoon picnics. And more and more, Sebastian is beginning to understand just how devastating it would be for Kurt to lose her.

"I'll see you later, Kurt?" Sebastian asks, secretly confirming that Kurt is still sure about his decision - that he wants tonight to be their first night together.

"Give me an hour?"

Sebastian smiles, overjoyed but doing his best not to let it show in front of Kurt's mom. But he can't help himself, taking Kurt's hand and kissing it. "Will do. See you in an hour."

"I'll text you before I come by."

Sebastian nods. "Bye, Mrs. H."

"Bye, Sebastian. Drive safe."

"I will."

"Come on, Mom." Kurt takes his mother by the arms and helps her off the ice. "Let's get those skates off."

Elizabeth watches Sebastian leave while Kurt leads her to a nearby bench. Sitting down, she gets a clear view of the hallway through the glass on the doors. She sees Sebastian perform an off-ice double axel, finishing with a bounce and a silent cheer before he hurries out the door.

Kurt, busy undoing the knot in her laces, doesn't see, but he's biting his lower lip, trying to keep an equally excited grin from crossing his face.

She smiles to herself. _Ah, youth …_

"So, you guys hanging out tonight?"

"Yeah," Kurt says dreamily, then catches himself. "Uh … well, for a while. I'll be back, but it'll be late."

"Really? You're coming back tonight?"

"Yeah. Why wouldn't I?"

"I'd think you'd want to spend the night at Sebastian's house, wouldn't you? I mean, all things considered. It's going to be a special night, isn't it?"

Kurt's fingers fumble with the laces. He looks up at his mother staring fondly back at him. "H-how did you …? D-did you hear us talking?"

"No," she says. "But I know that look on your face. It's a very _significant_ look."

"And what look is that?"

"Decisive. Determined. Anxious. _Excited_."

"But how do you know we haven't … you know … done it before?" Kurt asks, returning to his mom's laces and undoing the knot. He's curious, but not entirely comfortable focusing 100% on this conversation. He's talking about sex with his mother, for Christ's sake! He needs to do _something_ with his hands so he doesn't stick his fingers in his ears and start singing "na-na-na-na-na".

"Kurt" – She takes over the task of loosening her laces so that Kurt can start on the knot on her other boot. "I'm not blind and I'm not stupid. I've seen you go on date after date with him, then watched both you boys perform a perfect routine the following day. At least one of you wouldn't be walking straight if you had, so I can't imagine what your guys' _skating_ would look like."

" _Mom_!" he says, mortified, but also wondering if he should grace his boyfriend with this information. It might be interesting to see the shades of red Sebastian would turn if he did.

"I'm just saying" - She giggles - "but you're also taking for granted how much I know you." Elizabeth swallows hard, holding on to the strength in her voice with both hands. "I know that with everything going on in your life, the trouble you were having at school, the time you were putting in at the rink, the challenges you were facing with the team … you weren't ready."

Kurt exchanges one of her sneakers for a skate and starts putting a soaker on the blade. "Are you upset at me?" he asks quietly.

Elizabeth gives her son a sidelong look. "Why would I be upset at you, honey?"

He shrugs. "I don't know. I thought ... maybe … you might be disappointed if you knew."

"Kurt, why would I be disappointed? Sex isn't a bad thing." She puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing tight muscles. "There's nothing _wrong_ with you wanting to have sex with your boyfriend. You're a responsible, intelligent, mature young man in a committed relationship with a wonderful someone who loves you. Everyone should be so lucky. I'm _happy_ for you."

"Really?"

"Really." She scoots in close and leans against his side. Even after all this time recovering, building up her strength and putting on weight, she still feels light as a feather against him. "But this _is_ a big step. So before you do this, is there anything you need from me?"

Kurt looks at the skate in his hand and sighs. He wishes he could borrow a moment to throw on his skates and practice his newest routine. Everything's so much easier on the ice. When he's struggling with a move or ironing out a jump, his other problems seem smaller, farther away. On the ice, skating is all that matters – balance, artistry, footwork, control. Everything else has to figure itself out on its own without him.

Of course he learned a long time ago that that's not actually the way it works. His problems just wait for him to take his skates off again.

"Maybe some advice?" he says.

"Sure, kiddo. What kind of advice are you looking for?"

"I don't know. I guess what I want to know is – do you think we're going too fast?"

"Sweetie," she says, suppressing a kneejerk reaction which could be considered inappropriate, "you've waited a long time compared to a lot of other relationships. But this is _your_ relationship, and only you guys can decide if you've waited long enough. What do you think?"

"I think we have."

"And, when you think about tonight being _the night_ , do you think you'll have any regrets?"

Red stains his cheeks at a fleeting thought of what tonight with Sebastian will be like, knowing that his mother is sitting beside him, waiting for an answer. "No. Not a single one."

"Then I would say that if this is what you want, then do it."

"It's going to change everything, isn't it?"

"Not necessarily. It'll only change what you guys let it change. But you two are starting out on good, stable ground. I can only see this being a positive experience for both of you."

"B-but … what about Dad?"

"Yikes, Kurt!" His mother snickers. "We're talking about you having sex with your boyfriend. What the heck does _your dad_ have to do with it?"

"Do you think that _he'd_ be disappointed in me?"

"Kurt, that shouldn't matter."

"It doesn't. I'm just … I …" He drops his head, mildly embarrassed, slightly exasperated.

Elizabeth takes her son's hand in hers, noticing that it's bigger than the last time she remembers holding it. Bigger than her hand even. When did her little boy grow up? Wasn't it only yesterday when his father was trying to teach him to ride a bike, but he said he wanted ice skates instead? Wasn't it an hour ago when Kurt was standing outside of preschool, crying his little eyes out because he didn't want his mom to leave him, and now he's about to go off to Cornell? She'd passed by his bedroom just the other day and saw empty spaces on the bookcases where trinkets and picture frames used to be, empty rectangles on the walls where posters used to hang. Wasn't it only about a week ago when she and Burt moved in, and they decorated his room for him, setting up his crib and Elizabeth's rocking chair, eager for the day when Elizabeth would finally give birth to him?

She takes a deep breath, bites the inside of her cheek, squeezes his hand and fixes her smile.

"Your father believes that you should wait until you're thirty, but that's because you're his little boy. And you'll _always_ be his little boy. You could be fifty-three, but when he looks at you, he'd still see you sitting at a plastic table on the front lawn, wearing a shirt and tie, and serving him cakes and tea in tiny cups and saucers. But, to be completely honest, you're older than I _or_ your father was our first time."

"Really?" Kurt's nose scrunches, not because he's judging his parents, but because he could have lived a long and happy life without that knowledge. But as unsettled as Kurt seems by it, Elizabeth isn't offended. She'd probably have reacted the same way if her mother had said that to her at his age.

Heck, she'd be icked out if her mother rose from the grave tomorrow and said it.

Ew.

"Look, Kurt, your father and I love you. All we want is for you to be happy. Whether or not we approve of you having sex shouldn't factor into your decision because it's not about us. It's about you and Sebastian. But just so you know, if it's _important_ for you to know, we won't be disappointed. As long as you're making your own decisions without pressure from anyone else, you can't disappoint us. Okay?"

Kurt nods. "Okay."

"Good. Now give me a hug." Elizabeth opens her arms and her son slides in them, wrapping his around her waist. "Do you feel any better?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do."

"Good. Because I have one more piece of advice for you, and I hope that you'll take it to heart because it could change _everything_."

Kurt looks at his mom, his expression warm and relaxed, confident in his decision even more than he had been before. "Yes?"

Elizabeth gazes deep into her son's eyes. She puts a hand to his cheek, kisses him on the nose, and says, "Lube, Kurt. Lube is your best friend."

Kurt blinks. Then his whole face pinches and he scoots away, lips pursed as if he just tasted something sour. "Oh … oh God, Mom. Why? _WHY_?"

"I'm sorry, Kurt!" she chokes out, balled over and laughing. "I had to! Embarrassing my kid is a requirement, but with you … you don't make it easy!"

"There's a reason for that!" he groans, laughing in between.

"Kurt! You don't understand! I couldn't show my face around the other parents if I didn't grab the chance when I had it!"


	15. Makeshift Constellations

**During a romantic evening alone together, Kurt comes to an important decision about his and Sebastian's relationship.**

 _ **A/N: I know we're all waiting to see our boys' first time together, but we're going to rewind a little to this fun little moment xD**_

"Okay, do you see that?"

"See what?"

"That cluster over there?" Sebastian points to the right, at a group forming a wonky diamond shape.

"Um …" Kurt tilts his head and squints. "Yeah. Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Those have been around since the late 70s, or so I've been told."

"Impressive," Kurt says, squeezing the hand he's holding. He scoots closer to his boyfriend when the cold underneath them starts to seep through Sebastian's bed roll and sleeping bag and finally reach Kurt's skin. "What about those over there?" He points to a line of seven reaching out from the diamond group like the handle of the Big Dipper."

"Now those are from the last time the rink hosted a National Tournament," Sebastian says, "so I would say circa 86 probably."

"And why are they lined up like that? I mean, all the others are just kinda haphazardly lodged here and there. Those look intentional."

"They are. Apparently there was some sort of rivalry between the Westerville team and whatever opposing team they were playing against. After a controversial call, the visiting spent an hour post game shooting pucks into the ceiling."

"That's mature," Kurt groans.

"It gets better." Sebastian chuckles, turning in to Kurt's side. "Rumor has it they were attempting to write the words _fuck you_ , but they were caught and tossed out. They were fined, and suspended from tournament play for the rest of the season. Plus they were supposed to pay for repairs, but they never did. Hence …" Sebastian motions to the damage with his hand before curling it over Kurt's stomach.

"Nice."

"Ain't it though?"

Kurt scans the battered ceiling of the Ice-plex, looking at the multitude of dents and holes, the dirty yellow insulation showing through or hanging down, and the remaining pucks, wedged half-in/half-out, waiting for their time to fall and hit the ice, and sighs.

"Sebastian?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"We need a hobby. At least one thing we do together that has nothing to do with skating."

"Agreed." Sebastian sits up, grabbing Kurt's arm and helping him into an upright position. "Let's pack up and head out of here before Mike sends the Zamboni to run us over."


	16. Easy, Not So Easy

**Kurt tries to enforce an important rink rule, but an irritating mom is just not having it.**

 _ **Notes:**_

 _ **Okay, so I know you're all still waiting for Kurt and Sebastian's first time. And I am writing it. I promise. Romantic sex scenes take me a while. I want to get it right. Many of these one-shots are a reflection of things that happen while I'm down at the rink every day, and this happened just yesterday. And seeing as Kurt is my kindred spirit, I had to write this xD Also, you guys wanted me to write some run-ins with bad parents, so here you go :)**_

"EZ-Skaters on the other end of the ice, please."

The boy holding the device in question – a blocky walker-looking thing made of PVC pipe and held together by copious amounts of silver duct tape – looks at Kurt blankly. "What?" he grunts, barely even opening his mouth.

Kurt sighs. Yup. That's usually the response he gets when he tries to enforce this rule. What's the point of posting signs up everywhere if you still have to tell people when they get on the ice?

"EZ-Skaters, like the one you have right there," Kurt says, pointing to the walker with a rigid finger, "need to stay on the far end of the ice, on the opposite side of the orange cones. You can't take it to the center of the ice. Rink policy."

"Yeah, well, my mom rented this for me, so …" the boy mumbles as he takes off, probably assuming that Kurt won't bother following him. Kurt sighs again because now he has to go hunt down the boy's mother.

Kurt avoids dealing with parents when at all possible. Even the parents of the kids he coaches can sometimes be pains in the ass, especially when the behaviors of their "precious angels" come into question. But they usually see reason over time, especially since, in the case of competition hopefuls, reputation comes into play. Nobody on the competition circuit wants to deal with a prima donna.

The days when that sort of drama was considered interesting went out with the likes of Nancy Kerrigan and Tonya Harding.

Customers, however, can be the worst. They notoriously try to get away with _everything,_ as if the all of ten bucks they spend to get into the place for one afternoon gives them carte blanche to act like entitled jerks. And nine times out of ten, the kids that parents rent the EZ-Skaters for don't actually need them. They're just too scared to fall on their butts to buck it up and do the work it takes to learn how to skate.

But this rule about the EZ-Skaters isn't petty. It's necessary. It was created to protect the kids who _use_ the EZ-Skaters after a hockey player tripped and fell on a little girl awhile back, obliterating the EZ-Skater and crushing her in the process. She was fine, thank goodness - nothing on her but a few scratches and bruises - but it almost meant a huge lawsuit for the rink.

Kurt just wants to practice today without breaking a limb.

Kurt looks around outside the ice. The rink is fairly empty except for the hockey players running drills on the far side, and him and Sebastian practicing for Kurt's upcoming Grand Prix. On the sidelines, he spots a woman about the same age as his mother, watching from the penalty box as her little delinquent tools around with his EZ-Skater as if it were an Arctic dog sled. Kurt skates over, stops in her field of view, and clears his throat.

She makes it a point to stand from the bench she's sitting on and look over his head.

"Excuse me," Kurt says, "but is that boy with the EZ-Skater your son?"

"Yes," she says with a proud smile.

"I'm sorry, but he can't take that EZ-Skater out onto the ice. It has to be used over there" – He points dramatically to his right even though he knows she probably won't look – "where the cones are."

"But I rented it," she says, eyes tracking her son intensely in her attempt to completely avoid looking at Kurt.

"I know that," he says.

"So why can't he use it?"

"I'm not saying he can't use it," Kurt says calmly, calling upon years of practice at keeping his temper in check in the face of argumentative bullies. "I'm saying he can't take it out to the center of the ice. He has to use it over where the cones are. Rink policy."

"I didn't know that," she says, crossing her arms defiantly over her chest.

"There's a sign on the box office window up front where you paid for the rental."

"Didn't see it."

"The gentleman at the rental window would have told you when you picked it up."

"He didn't."

That answer steams Kurt because yes, he did. Kurt _knows_ he did. The man behind the rental counter has been with the rink for over a decade. He knows how important this rule is to the skaters' safety, and he's as vigilant as anyone there. There's no way he'd forget to mention it this one time.

"There's a sign right there on the ice." Kurt gestures to a white sign not five feet from the entrance to the rink, with big black letters that say _EZ-Skaters are required to stay on this side of the cones_.

The woman has the gall to not even look.

"I'm sorry, but do you work here?" she says, her lips twitching with a condescending smile.

It would be easy to tell the lady that, yes, he does indeed work there (and, to a degree, he does), but he looks _young_. He _knows_ he looks young. And because he looks young, he could be the frickin' general manager of the rink and that still wouldn't make any difference. So Kurt gives her his fakest polite smile and says, "If you'd like to talk to someone else about that policy, you can speak to that lady over there. We call her Coach Beiste." Kurt points in the direction of the actual general manager and head hockey coordinator, Shannon Beiste, pacing outside the wall, watching three aisles of hockey players run drills. "But whether you do or not, if your son doesn't follow the rules, the EZ-Skater needs to be returned to the rental window."

The woman scoffs at Kurt, rolling her eyes when he doesn't just leave and remains rooted in her line of sight. "Al _right_ ," she says in an _I'm only doing this to humor you_ sort of way. She grabs her purse from the bench behind her and walks out of the penalty box. Kurt follows her with his eyes as she approaches Coach Beiste, making sure she actually goes and doesn't walk past to the restrooms or the Snack Shack.

"Another parent giving you trouble, babe?" Sebastian asks, skating over from the far side of the ice to find out why his boyfriend hasn't returned to practice after leaving to get a drink of water over five minutes ago.

"Of course." Kurt leans in to Sebastian's side and puts his head on his boyfriend's shoulder. "Or else it wouldn't be a day ending in _y._ "

"Excuse me, Coach … uh … Beiste?"

"No, no, no, guys! Cut left! _Left_! Then push him out of the way!" Beiste screams, directing the kids on the ice with both hands. Her left hand, clutching her clipboard, swings out wide, grazing the head of the woman beside her.

" _Excuse me_ ," she says a bit more loudly, hands shielding her scalp, though she's determined that if she doesn't get the burly woman's attention this time, she's going to give up and leave. The nerve of that kid trying to tell her, a paying customer, what her son can and cannot do. Whatever happened to _the customer's always right_? Well, Yelp is sure as hell going to hear about it if this woman can't give her a good reason why her son shouldn't be allowed to skate on the entire ice like everybody else.

"Yes?" Beiste stops flailing when she registers a voice talking to her. "How can I help you?"

"It seems I'm having an issue with some kid telling me that my son can't use his EZ-Skater."

"What?" Beiste makes a face. " _Of course_ , your kid can use his EZ-Skater. You paid for it, you use it. End of story." Coach Beiste glances down the ice in search of the woman's son. "Uh, where is he?"

"Over there," the woman says, smugly pointing out her twelve-year-old boy hunched over a too-small-for-him walker and sliding with it across the ice.

"Oh, no," Beiste says. "No, no, no. The EZ-Skaters need to stay on the other end of the ice, hun. Where the orange cones are. It's a rink policy."

"I see," the woman huffs, put out at hearing that same excuse twice. "I didn't know that."

"Well" – Beiste chuckles – "there _is_ a sign up front."

"I-I didn't see it," she claims, not quite as firmly as she had with Kurt.

"There's also a sign right there," Beiste says with a nod of her chin.

"I … may have overlooked that one."

"And the guy at the rental counter would have told you."

"He didn't," she insists.

Beiste turns to face the woman beside her, fixing her with a significantly unamused look, and says, "Yes, he did, hun."

Floored by Beiste's sudden seriousness, the woman takes a step back. "Uh ..."

"It's a liability issue," Beiste continues as if her mood had never changed. "You see, if those EZ-Skaters get away from your kid and hit another skater, that could result in a serious accident. Someone could trip and fall, bones could even get broken. You see our figure skaters out there?" Beiste points to the center ice, where the woman's kid speeds past a girl practicing a camel spin. "Some of them pay a helluva lot of money to train here. I can't risk any of them getting hurt, no more than I can risk your kid getting hurt, neither."

"Y-yes." The woman swallows and nods. "Yes, I see. That makes sense."

"I mean, you wouldn't've rented the EZ-Skater if your kid didn't need one, would you?"

"No. No, I wouldn't have."

"Good. Well, then. I'm glad you understand." Beiste claps the woman heavy-handedly on the shoulder. "Now, I have to head over to the other rink. But if you need anymore assistance, we have staff all over. You'll know them by their red jackets that say _staff_ on the back."

"Gr-great," the woman stutters. "That's …"

"We also have two junior coaches on the ice today who can help you out." Beiste sticks two fingers in her mouth and whistles loud enough to make half the rink jump. "Hummel! Smythe! Give us a wave over here!"

Kurt and Sebastian wave their way, bright smiles on their faces as if they haven't been paying attention to this exchange the whole time. Kurt's smile in particular grows even brighter when the woman stares at him, her face drawn.

"Come on, team!" Beiste bellows, a hand cupped to the side of her mouth that she doesn't really need to amplify her voice. "Let's head on over to the other side!"

Kurt and Sebastian watch Beiste saunter away, leading her troupe of hockey players to the other rink like a mother duck herding her ducklings. Somewhere along the way, both the combative mother and her obnoxious son disappear, the EZ-Skater abandoned beside the orange cones.

Kurt shakes his head at the ridiculousness of it all and sighs - with relief this time.

"I _love_ the way it feels to watch someone get called out when they really deserve it," he says. "Don't you?"

"I do," Sebastian agrees, snaking an arm around Kurt's waist now that there's no one around to see.

Kurt turns to him slightly and cocks an eyebrow. "Better than making out?"

"Mmmm … close." Sebastian looks up at the puck-riddled ceiling and thinks. "But maybe we should go to the locker room and check. You know, just to make sure."

"Yes," Kurt says, giggling as Sebastian puts his hands on his hips and pushes him toward the nearest exit. "Let's."


	17. Stage Mom

**After watching a mom tear down one of their skaters, Kurt calls off his date with Sebastian so the two of them can lend a helping hand.**

 **Notes:**

 _ **So before anyone gives me any kind of grief with regard to my original characters, the things I write about in this verse are actual things I see going on at the rink where my daughter trains. I'm not stereotyping based on race or anything else. "Maya" is a real girl, and the mom I'm writing about is her real mother. And this is how she, and many other moms, act. And yes, they happen to be Chinese. The little boy who is my Kurt muse is the one with the mom who yells in Russian. Our rink has its share of awful stage parents. Maya and her mom just happen to be the two I see most often. But we also have a surplus of kids who are always willing to step up and help when one of their peers is down in the dumps, and that just warms my heart, so I had to write it. Please let me know what you think. I'm still plugging away on the main story, so worry not :)**_

"Again!"

The girl sitting in the center of the ice, catching her breath after her latest epic fall, wipes her red cheeks with snow-covered gloves.

"I said _again_ , Maya!"

"I'm sorry, Momma," Maya says, climbing shakily to her blades, "but I can't do that jump while you're here!"

"Why not?" Maya's mother - wrapped in several layers of turtleneck, sweater, jacket, and blanket - stands from her bench to address her daughter from behind the low wall of the penalty box.

"You make me nervous!"

The woman slams a gloved hand on the wood edge. "That's no excuse!"

"I didn't say it was!" Maya explains, skating over to her agitated mother. "I'm just saying that …"

"Say nothing! Do it again! Now!"

"Hey, babe." Sebastian slides up behind Kurt, who's watching Maya and her mother argue from the doorway of the next penalty box down. He's dressed to the nines in red, white, and blue cloud print skinny jeans, and a lighter blue, short-sleeve button down with the top two buttons undone. He's still wearing his skates but that's not unusual, even three minutes before they're supposed to be out the door, grabbing dinner.

Kurt without his skates on – _that_ would be unusual, which is why, dressed to impress himself, Sebastian tossed on his own skates to join him.

"You look absolutely incredible."

"Thanks," Kurt says glumly, grabbing his boyfriend's arm and winding it around his waist.

Sebastian watches Maya's mother shake her fist as her rant becomes louder, which makes Maya recoil. "She doesn't sound too happy, does she?"

Kurt sighs. "She's not." He winces when the angry woman switches from English to Chinese, her voice becoming rougher as she talks faster, the words she slings reducing her daughter to tears.

"I wonder what she's saying."

"She's calling Maya's jumps weak and her spins sloppy." Kurt's grip on Sebastian's arm tightens as he continues. "She's saying that if Maya can't perform the routine, then what good is coming here and practicing every day? Why is she spending all this money? She's calling her skating a bad investment, and she says that Maya's embarrassing her."

"Wow," Sebastian says, as much in awe of his boyfriend's translation skills as the harshness of those remarks. "You speak Chinese?"

"No. But she says it so much, I used voice recognition on my phone and had Google translate it. Google translate sucks, but it gives you the gist."

"Damn."

"I know."

"No, Mom!" Maya pleads, tears running in torrents down her cheeks. "Don't go! Please!"

"And now she's leaving." Kurt exhales so long, Sebastian can imagine all the breath leaving his body.

"I-I don't understand," Sebastian says. "I mean, I've heard a few of these moms yell before, but I didn't know it was _this_ bad."

"Yeah, well, you obviously missed the mom who yells at her son in _Russian_."

"How can she say that about Maya though? She's one of the best skaters here!"

"I know." Kurt wraps Sebastian's arm around him tighter as he watches the woman storm off with her heartbroken daughter skating after her, trying to catch her before she reaches the double-doors. "I guess they think disappointment is motivating or something. As far as I'm concerned, it's just plain cruel. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have a parent like that."

Sebastian can't either. For all of their faults, his parents don't put him down like that, especially not in front of other people.

They just don't particularly pay attention to him.

"H-how do we help her?"

"I don't know." Kurt watches Maya reach the doorway to the ice and slide to a halt, contemplating whether she should run after her mother in her blades or if she would get into even more trouble for dulling them by leaving the ice without her blockers. "But I have an idea. It might mean taking a raincheck on tonight though." Kurt looks at his boyfriend with apologetic eyes. "I'll make it up to you. I promise." Kurt glances down his Sebastian's body, at his violet Henley; his tight, black jeans; and his Bauers, untied since he threw them on just to talk to Kurt for a few moments.

"It's all good," Sebastian says, giving his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek. "As long as I can hang here with you while you do whatever it is you're going to do."

"I was hoping you'd say that, because I might need your help, _Coach_."

Kurt bites his bottom lip coyly and takes off down the ice with Sebastian behind him. By the time they reach Maya, she's taken her gloves off, wiping her swollen eyes with her fingertips, her shoulders shaking with sobs.

"Hey, Maya," Kurt says, not sure how to start. "How's it going?" He looks at Sebastian, grimacing at himself, but shakes it off quickly when he hears Maya sniffle.

"I can't do the jump, Coach Hummel," Maya confesses, turning to look at the boys standing behind her. "I try and try, but … I just can't."

"Yes, you can," Kurt says, reassuring her with a smile. "I've seen you do that jump, and it's amazing."

"B—but … I can't do it in front of _her_. I want my mom to be proud of me, but … I don't think she ever is anymore."

"Yes, she is." Kurt's confidence surprises Sebastian. It doesn't sound like Kurt's telling her what she wants to hear, but after that display, how can he be so sure? Of course, Kurt spends more time with the figure skaters and their parents than Sebastian does now. He has to trust his boyfriend's judgment. "But you know parents. They expect so much from their kids sometimes that they forget how hard it is. Roadblocks come up. That's not your fault."

"I-I don't know how to fix it." Maya looks sadly at her skates. "I've tried everything, I … I just don't know what to do."

"I do." Kurt remembers when Sebastian helped him iron out one of his triple combinations during a difficult time in his life. Kurt never thought he'd ever land that jump. He thought he'd plateaued, saw no way to get over the bump. But Sebastian proved him wrong. Kurt is certain he can prove Maya wrong, too. "We're going to practice that jump until you can do it in your sleep. Until it's not even a thing. And then you won't have to worry about being nervous, because it'll be like second nature to you."

"D-do you think that will work?"

"I'm more than sure it will. Here …" Kurt reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a thin packet of tissues and hands them over so the poor girl can stop rubbing her eyes raw.

Maya pulls a tissue from the pack and dabs her eyes. Her racing heart slows and the rest of her body, numb from cold water soaking through her pants after numerous falls on the ice, begins to warm up again. Her smile starts small, not allowing itself to become too hopeful, especially when she looks the boys up and down and sees how nicely they're both dressed.

"B-but I thought you guys were going on a date or something. I don't want you to change your plans because of me."

"It can wait," Sebastian says. "Right now, this is more important."


	18. Skate or Swim

**When a particularly hard winter hits Ohio, the roof of the Westerville Ice-plex begins to leak, and no one's liking it.**

 _ **Notes:**_

 _ **What can I say - the roof is leaking at our skating rink, and I wrote this xD Also, we see the return of Lorelei and her brother Kevin, as well as Maya :D**_

"Left, left, right, right, cut now, and slide! Slide!"

"No!"

"Not again!"

"Yuck!"

A few players complain while others simply do what they're told and slide on their bellies across the ice.

Splashing and groaning follow, along with a few maniacal chuckles.

" _Coach_!"

"This is so _gross_!"

"God!"

"I _hate_ this!"

"I don't know what you're whining about, Lorelei!" Kevin says, skidding across the surface on his back like a turtle. "This is great! It's like a giant Slip 'N Slide!"

"This is _nothing_ like a Slip 'N Slide, you reject!" Lorelei scolds, grabbing the lip of the wall and struggling to her blades with an additional three pounds of water soaking her jersey. "Ugh! I can feel the decades of microbes living in this ice eating into my skin."

"Stop complaining, will ya?" Sebastian yells at his team rising from the soggy ice with the enthusiasm of zombies. "Half of you are covered in black and blues, but you're whining about a little water?"

"Coach" - Lorelei glares at Sebastian with daggers she usually reserves for her brother, Kevin - "this isn't a _little_ water. The whole rink is practically flooded."

"Nonsense." Sebastian waves her off. "We still have plenty of ice to work with."

" _Ewww_! Now my socks are wet!" another player joins in as they, too, slowly climb to their feet.

"I don't like it any more than you guys do, but you have to work through it! Adapt! Rise! Overcome!" Sebastian cheers, trying to keep the energy high, but secretly, he has to agree. Wet socks are the absolute _worst_ , and his have gotten so completely drenched, he can hear them squelching inside his boots.

Damn if they aren't going to stink out loud when he finally takes them off.

"Coach Hummel!" From the other side of the rink, Sebastian hears Maya squeal as she glides to a stop on one knee. "This sucks!"

"I know, I know," Kurt says, giving the girl a hand up. "It's never fun when the ceiling leaks. Do you want to go to the locker room and change?"

Maya takes off her jacket and wrings it out till it's barely damp, but there's nothing she can do about her padded shorts, her pants, her tights, or any of her other layers. "Nah. There's no use changing into dry clothes if I'm just going to get them wet, too."

"Hey, Coach Beiste!" Sebastian calls out when he sees her trot onto the ice, carrying a pile of old towels to sop up the ever-growing puddles. "When are you guys gonna fix the roof, huh?"

"We have a guy comin' tomorrow, pum'kin."

"Tomorrow!" Sebastian says while the other players moan their frustration. "Are you _kidding_ me? We're all gonna _drown_ by then!"

"Well, unfortunately we're not the only ones with a leaky roof," Beiste says, dropping the towels on the far side of the ice where the leak is heaviest. "Winter's hit the whole town hard this year. We just got this roof re-tarred over the summer, too," she adds with a bitter tut.

"Well, it's friggin' ridiculous that we have to wait that long," Sebastian complains. He knows it's not the rink's fault. It's not even the roofer's fault. He'd say it's Mother Nature's fault, but he doesn't want to try his luck or before they know it, they'll be snowed in. Personally, Sebastian has it easy. He has a private rink behind his house, big enough to accommodate everybody present. But there's no way he's inviting the team to practice there. A lot of the kids have backyard rinks but compared to those, Sebastian's enclosed rink is the Taj Mahal.

He'd never get them to leave.

"Kid, you live in Ohio." Beiste chuckles. " _Everything_ here's ridiculous."

"What do we do till then?" Lorelei chimes in since she knows there's no way Sebastian is going to cut practice short because of a leaky roof.

"I don't know, hun. Did you bring a swimsuit?"

"Ha … ha …" she grumbles, tapping the ice with the blade of her stick, gloomily watching it splash.

"Hey, Bas," Kurt says, speeding over to his boyfriend, then speaking low in his ear so no one else can hear, "would it be all right if I took Maya over to your rink? She's trying to work out some rough spots before her competition on Saturday. She can't go to the rink in Columbus, and all this cold water here is giving her a cramp."

"Sure," Sebastian says, taking advantage of Kurt's closeness to sneak him a peck on the cheek. "I'll meet up with you guys in an hour. The wet's kinda gettin' to me, too."

"Great!" Kurt shoots Maya a thumbs up before he swizzles away. "We'll see you then."

Sebastian watches Kurt leave, giving his boyfriend his usual leisurely once over, but then does a double take that's less so.

"Hey! How come you're not all that wet?" Sebastian gripes, noticing how everything from Kurt's shoulders to his shins is basically bone dry while Sebastian - who's only been overseeing his team's drills, not participating in them - is wet from head to toe.

"Don't know." Kurt shrugs. "Just lucky, I guess."

Sebastian shakes his head after Kurt skates away, mumbling the words _just lucky I guess_ under his breath.

When Kurt calls back, "Sebastian!" Sebastian jumps, certain that Kurt caught him making fun.

"What, babe?"

"I need your key. I think I left mine at home."

"Oh. Okay." Sebastian pats down the pockets of his jeans, the stiff fabric squishing under his palms. He finds the key in his back pocket, but the denim doesn't part easily to let him get to it. "Here it is." He skates over, sliding up to Kurt the way he normally would. He realizes his mistake the second he swerves to a stop and a wave hits Kurt's legs. Kurt hops out of the way when he sees the swell coming, but doesn't get far enough out of reach when Sebastian hits his edges and douses him.

" _Bas_!" Kurt stares at his wet pants – a patch of water, grime, and whatever chemicals exist in the ceiling of the skating rink darkening the entire front - and cringes. The thought of that touching his skin makes him want to vomit. "Why do you keep _doing that_ to me?"

"I don't keep _doing that_ to you!"

"This has to be at least the second time!" Kurt exclaims. "Admit it! You did that on _purpose_!"

"I did not! I _swear_! It was an accident!" Sebastian says, but seeing as Kurt doesn't look convinced, he decides to go a step further.

How much more trouble can he get himself into anyway?

He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and hugs him, knowing the water drenching his jersey and jeans has to be soaking through Kurt's clothes.

"Bas!" Kurt whimpers, trying to decide whether wriggling to get away will do him any good, or just get him wet quicker.

Sebastian laughs, locking his arms behind Kurt's back so he has no hope of getting free. "Now _this_ is on purpose!"


	19. Under Stress

**With a stress fracture to his right foot, Kurt is off his blades for a little while, watching his boyfriend enviously as Sebastian performs triple axels as easily as if he's skipping down the street. But Sebastian, knowing how heartbroken Kurt feels being sidelined, finds a way to take his injured boyfriend out on the ice.**

 ** _So, this one is inspired by my own injury that kind of has me sidelined, as well as an excerpt from the book "My Sergei: A Love Story" written by figure skater Ekaterina Gordeeva about her late husband Sergei Grinkov. There are also snippets in here that give hints about the main fic ... which is out there ... somewhere xD_**

"Okay, Kurt! Watch this one! I promise, it's gonna be better than the last one!"

"Oh, boy," Kurt mutters, envy dripping from the glare in his blue eyes as his boyfriend circles the ice. "How many triples do you have in this new program anyway?"

"Uh … six, I think? Seven, maybe?"

"Isn't that a little much?"

"Maybe. But it never hurts to be extra."

"It will if you sprain your ankle." Kurt watches Sebastian take a preliminary lap to build up speed. He hits his stride, sets up his jump, and leaps. He twirls, hanging in the air as if he could stay suspended there forever, then lands cleanly on one leg, his arms outstretched, his posture impeccable.

Even after months of not touching his figure skates in favor of playing hockey, he's still got it.

"And there you have it, folks. Yet another stunning triple axel by Sebastian Smythe," Kurt grumbles as Sebastian skates over and glides to an elegant stop.

"Thank you." Sebastian bows, waving and blowing kisses as if to a crowd of applauding fans. "Thank you, thank you."

Kurt sighs gloomily as Sebastian swizzles backwards, transitioning into a flawless attitude spin. "No fair. I want to be out there with you."

Sebastian slides to an immediate halt, as if Kurt just threatened to jump off the building.

"Not with that stress fracture, you don't," he says, the coach in him slipping out.

"I know, I know." Kurt looks down at the clunky black boot covering his right foot and ankle. "Damn stupid metatarsals. You're weak. Weak, I tell you."

"You know, you wouldn't have fractured it if you'd just rest once in a while," Sebastian remarks, looking at Kurt's foot with concern. Even now, he doesn't rest as much as the doctor ordered. He should be sitting in the penalty box, keeping weight off it. Instead, he's standing in the doorway of the rink, shifting his weight out of discomfort, in constant contemplation of how he can sneak on the ice without Sebastian seeing him. "You're exceptional. You don't have to practice _so_ much …"

"You don't win the gold without practice."

"Yeah?" Sebastian says, annoyed by that logic. It's the same logic that a lot of coaches use in competition circles all over to pressure their skaters into practicing when it would be better for them to take it easy. It's the logic that parents use, people like Maya's mom, to push their kids into competing above their skill level before they're ready, or practicing while they're sick or when they're tired and have nothing left to give. It's the same logic that Sebastian used on himself, trying to do _anything_ that would get his parents attention.

It's the logic that Kurt has lived by, fighting to be the best against boys who treated him like a loser.

The way Sebastian used to.

"There's more to life than winning gold medals, Kurt."

"For you, maybe." Kurt chuckles. "Not for me. I remember hearing how much you hated skating sometimes, and yet you still did it. And you won, all the time. But me? I had to work harder to get _half_ of what you had, but I wanted that half more than you wanted your whole."

"It wasn't about talent," Sebastian says with regret. "You can skate circles around me, with one leg in a cast and your eyes closed. It was about politics … and money."

Kurt smiles, but he still looks sad. "That's sweet of you to say. But honestly, I didn't have to win the gold medal. I just wanted to skate. I wanted to perform and make my parents proud. Make myself proud. Even when I was sick as a dog, I still wanted to be out here more than anything else in the world. It's all I've ever wanted."

Sebastian looks at his boyfriend, tilting his head to catch his eyes while Kurt stares solemnly at the foot he's convinced is ruining his life.

"Well, do you wanna come out here and skate with me?" he asks, an idea sprouting in his head that's too delicious to ignore.

"Don't tease me, Sebastian. You know I do."

"Hold on one second. I have an idea." Sebastian steps off the ice. He wipes his blades clean with his gloved fingers, then slides his blockers over them. Then he trots off to the rental window. He tries the employee entrance, but it's locked, so he hops up onto the counter and jumps in.

Kurt hears rustling outside the double doors, and his attention goes in that direction, curious as to who else might be in the building considering it's way before hours. When no one walks past the windows, Kurt turns back to Sebastian, who's returning to the ice with a blue plastic seal in tow.

Sebastian giggles like a giddy idiot at what he obviously perceives as a genius plan, but Kurt's jaw drops.

"You _can't_ be serious," he says, grimacing at the turquoise pinniped as if it personally offended him, insulted his mother, and kicked the dog he doesn't have.

Sebastian looks at the seal sled, then back at Kurt, blinking innocently. "Why not?"

"Because … it's _embarrassing_! What if someone sees me on that thing?"

"It's five o'clock in the frickin' morning! No one's here! The place doesn't officially open for another seven hours!"

"Yeah, well, with my luck, everyone we know will show up the minute you get me on that thing," Kurt says, but he relents, taking Sebastian's hand when offered and climbing carefully onto the back of the plastic beast. Kurt settles into the narrow seat, adjusting his legs on either side into some semblance of comfort.

"Don't worry," Sebastian says, removing his blockers. "I won't go too fast and shoot you off it or anything."

" _That's_ reassuring."

"Are you ready?" Sebastian grabs the handle and gives it a little push to test the weight.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

"Then hold on. Here we go!"

Sebastian starts out slowly, pushing Kurt onto the ice but grunting with the effort, even after the smooth plastic hits the slick surface.

"What? Am I too heavy for you?" Kurt kids. "I thought you've been spending hours in the gym lifting weights."

"Yeah, well, apparently I should have been doing this instead." Sebastian struggles with the seal, searching for the sweet spot on the underside of the sled that will allow it to glide with Kurt on it. Kurt's weight isn't the problem. It's his _height_. The kids who ride these things are usually six-years-old and younger (though Sebastian has seen a few rowdy twelve-year-olds take them out for a spin when no one's looking), but they wear skates on their feet to reduce friction. Kurt can't put on his skates, not with his fractured foot. Giving him a skate for his uninjured foot would defeat the purpose. With a blade on only one side, he'd slide around in circles.

Kurt is doing his part to make this work, lifting his legs up by his knees to keep the soles of his shoes off the ice, but his legs are too long. He could elevate his legs onto the head of the seal and recline back, but that would put too much weight on the ankle of his injured foot.

Sebastian begins to think that maybe his plan isn't as genius as he thought it was and slows to a halt, coming up with a better solution.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asks when Sebastian pulls along his side. "Why have we stop-what are you _doing_?" Kurt screeches, inferring Sebastian's intention when he slides an arm underneath his knees.

Sebastian looks into his boyfriend's eyes – soft and sincere and so full of affection. "Do you trust me?"

Kurt melts at that easy, open expression on his boyfriend's face, the one he seems to reserve only for Kurt, the one that communicates love and guilt, pride and sorrow, and all of the other emotions that their relationship has been about thus far. He smiles at the boy putting his other arm around his back, and reciprocates with an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "Only on days that end in _y_."

"Well, since today's Sunda _y_ ," Sebastian says, stressing the last letter, "then it's your lucky day. On the count of three. One … two …"

Sebastian lifts his boyfriend into his arms in one go. He feels lighter than Sebastian remembers, either because Sebastian has been training more in preparation for his next competition, or because Kurt, unable to train for the time being, has lost a fair amount of weight.

Or maybe it's because Kurt has never been a burden whatsoever.

He's only ever been a joy.

"No jumping now, you hear?" Kurt warns, letting fly with a whoop when Sebastian twirls once before heading across the ice.

"Aw. And I've been working on my quad jumps and everything," Sebastian teases, but he wouldn't dare a jump with Kurt in his arms. Not even a bunny hop.

Kurt squeals as Sebastian throws in another slow spin, but begins to relax when he continues doing lazy wide slaloms down the ice.

"Hmm … now _this_ is the way to skate," Kurt jokes. "No wonder all the girls start looking for pairs partners early. How come I never thought of this before?"

"Because you're too independent," Sebastian says, easing around the corner. "You don't need someone to lift you into the spotlight. You shine bright enough all on your own."

"That, and if I _was_ a pair skater, _I_ would be doing all the lifting. Which would be difficult considering, for me to have a partner, I'd need to find someone with a smaller build than me, and that means the six- to eight-year-old." Kurt chuckles, picturing himself lifting one of his little diva ice dancers in the air, one-handed. It would be adorable, yes, but it probably wouldn't win them any style points against the other hormonal teens who dance like they're in love.

The way he and Sebastian dance on the ice when they get the chance.

"Pair skating is for guys who are too boring to pull off a routine on their own, so they find the prettiest girl they can to make themselves look good."

"Wow" – Kurt snickers, seeing as when Sebastian's biggest rival, Hunter Clarington, left Westerville's team in disgrace, he had to become a pair skater because no team would touch him as a single skater. Not after what he pulled – "Don't hold back, Sebastian. Tell us how you _really_ feel."

"You don't need anyone, Kurt," Sebastian says, admitting his greatest fear with a hard swallow. "You're perfect all on your own."

"I need _you_ ," Kurt argues.

Sebastian smiles, but he knows it's not true - not in this arena, anyway. But it's nice to hear. "Well, you have me."

Sebastian readjusts his grip on Kurt's back and Kurt gasps.

"Please, don't drop me," he says, resting his head against Sebastian's shoulder with a deep sigh.

Sebastian tightens his hold on the boy in his arms. "I'd never dream of it."


	20. The Emancipation of Blaine Anderson

**When Blaine stops by the Ice-plex to say goodbye to Kurt and tell him that he's leaving Ohio, he's intercepted by Sebastian, who discovers a secret that Blaine's been hiding … and offers to help.**

 _ **Warning for mention of bruises, mention of child abuse, mention of homophobia, and mention of violence.**_

"Hey, _Blainers_ ," Sebastian says with a slight groan when he spots Blaine sitting on the curb outside the Ice-plex. _Waiting for Kurt_ , Sebastian knows. Just like he does every afternoon. _Well, too bad, Blainey. He's not here._ Sebastian smiles triumphantly that _he_ knows that, and Blaine apparently doesn't. "How's it hanging?"

Blaine doesn't lift his head when Sebastian approaches, just offers him a halfhearted wave. "Hey, Sebastian," he replies with none of his usual vile cheerfulness and the addition of a lisp shadowing every _s_ in Sebastian's name. "I'm just … I'm waiting around for free skate to start."

Why Blaine feels the need to tell him that, Sebastian has no idea. Sebastian knows why the boy is here. Blaine runs like clockwork. There's no mystery to the kid … usually.

A lot of what Sebastian is seeing now when he looks at Blaine can be deemed _unusual_.

"Well, you could wait _inside_ ," Sebastian offers, because if Kurt ever found out that he left his BFF Blaine sitting outside on the filthy curb in his absence, there would be some angry re-scheduling of make-outs.

"Uh … no. No, that's alright. Here's fine."

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't say anything. He's not going to pry. If the guy wants to wait outside on the cold, hard ground, let him. Sebastian isn't going to drag him inside if he doesn't want to go.

"Suit yourself." Sebastian's about to leave when Blaine sniffles, turning his head to wipe something off his cheek. With a tilt of his head, Sebastian sees what Blaine's hiding, why he's keeping his head low, what that's lisp's all about.

His right eye is swollen and black, forcing his eyelid shut, and a cut on the right side of his upper lip is crusted with dry blood. Both bruises together make the right side of his face look twice as big as his left.

Sebastian whistles low.

"Nice shiner," he says, broaching the subject carefully. "But aren't you going a bit overboard with the tough guy look? I mean, most people would stop at the leather jacket."

Blaine chuckles. It's genuine, but sad. "You're probably right. I should tone it down a bit. Uh … wh-where's Kurt? I needed … I wanted to say something to him."

"He had to take his mom to a doctor's appointment, but he should be back soon." Sebastian narrows his eyelids at the sound of finality in Blaine's voice. "Why? What's up?"

"I just …" He sniffles again, his shoulders shaking a tiny bit "… I stopped by to say goodbye."

There's a cruel and sarcastic part of Sebastian's brain, bred from habit and a touch of jealousy, that wants to cheer over that, but he can't. Because Kurt was right. Blaine _has_ grown on him. Sebastian has no problem making fun of the boy to his face when they're on the same page. It's become their norm. Jabs and wry comebacks are how they communicate. But Blaine is obviously hurting. And like him or not, Sebastian doesn't want to see him in pain. "Where you going?"

Blaine shrugs. "To be honest, I don't know, but I have to get out of Ohio."

"Why?" Sebastian gives in, blows off his practice session and takes a seat on the curb beside him. "Are you being chased by the mob?"

"Close. My dad."

Sebastian's brow pinches as he gets a better look at Blaine's face. His swollen right eye and cut lip also include a badly bruised cheekbone and what looks like some pretty substantial road rash along his forehead, as if he wasn't only punched, but thrown into a wall.

"Are you saying … your _father_ did this to you?" Sebastian asks. Blaine has never mentioned his father, either to him or to Kurt, as far as he knows. Sebastian just assumed he was either like Kurt's dad – very accepting and supportive, or his own father – willing to finance his extracurriculars but rarely ever around. If he's been abusing Blaine this whole time, Sebastian sure as heck never noticed it. Blaine had no unexplained limps, no weird bruises. Of course, Blaine is a skater, and like most skaters, he has the odd bump and a handful of impressive black-and-blues. As with Kurt and himself, Blaine wrote them off the same way. _"I didn't land an axel. I underestimated my distance to the wall. I've been attempting a quad – key word: attempting."_ And he never made any outlandish excuses for the nastier looking ones.

Maybe that's the point. He didn't have to. He could always trace them back to skating.

So how would Sebastian or Kurt have known the difference?

"Yeah," Blaine admits, eyes darting left and right with embarrassment. "My dad he … he figured out something today. Something about me. And he kind of … lost it."

Sebastian has no clue what Blaine could possibly mean. As far as Sebastian is concerned, there's no trick to Blaine Anderson. He's practically an open book. What the heck did his father not know till today that could set him off like that?

When it occurs to Sebastian, he feels ashamed by how surprised he is. He shouldn't be. It's something that Sebastian lives with, too, but it's practically a non-issue in his house. Though he does have to admit that, aside from absentee parents, he lives a pretty blessed life.

But it's also a sheltered one.

Kurt would understand, because Kurt has suffered for it.

"He didn't know you're gay?"

Blaine raises a finger. "Correction. He didn't know that I'm _still_ gay."

A light switches on in Sebastian's head. Now that he knows the root of the issue, he knows exactly what Blaine means by that. "The leather jacket, the torn jeans, the military boots, that old-school Mustang you drive - it's all a front, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Blaine half-sniffles/half-laughs. "It kinda is. Not that I minded. I mean, it's not entirely my style, but it's still cool. And it was working, too."

"How did he find out?"

Blaine looks at Sebastian, the anxiety on his face and the constant shifting of his one open eye making him seem incredibly guilty. "I'd … rather not say."

"Dude! I wanna _help_ you!"

"I know, but … I'm really not looking forward to getting _two_ black eyes in one day."

"I promise, whatever it is …" Sebastian rolls his eyes skyward, racking his brain for the worst things he can think of "… you were whacking off to old episodes of _Mork and Mindy_ , you were dancing alone in your mother's wedding dress, you were watching RuPaul and waxing your eyebrows - I'm not gonna judge."

Blaine stares at his boots, knocking his heels together, beating a rhythm with the muted thud they make. His laces are untied, as per usual, but the outside of the left boot appears scuffed - more proof in Sebastian's mind that Blaine's father _did_ throw him against a wall. He probably has a sizable goose egg hiding underneath his lightly-gelled curls. Sebastian got an injury like that on the ice last hockey season - shoulder check right into the boards. He hit his head so hard he actually heard bells. Just thinking about it makes his ears ring. "He, uh … he overheard me talking on the phone to a friend of mine …" Blaine stops and swallows hard, his lips pulling tight like he's trying not to ralph "… about Kurt." Blaine peeks up. Sebastian's jaw clenches. "Nothing gross or … or explicit," he adds quickly. "I _swear_. I just … I said how talented he is, how sweet and kind, and how lucky you are to have him."

Blaine tries to leave it at that, but Sebastian stares Blaine down, fairly certain that that's not all. He doesn't doubt that's enough for a homophobic father to blow his top, but Sebastian suspects that wasn't what made Mr. Anderson go agro. Blaine gulps hard, looking, for all intents and purposes, like he wants to disappear into the cracks in the pavement, but he gives in. He has no fight left in him, so he decides to put all his cards on the table. What could Sebastian do that was worse than what his father had already done?

"I said how, if he were anyone else, I might make a move, but I respect the two of you too much to do anything. But that I'll be waiting in the wings, you know, if you ever … screw … up." Sebastian huffs, his venomous glare becoming downright acidic, and Blaine deflates like he's just lost his last friend in the world. "I-I meant it as a joke."

"Sure you did."

Blaine's back bows, and from what Sebastian can see of his face, he's on the verge of tears. Sebastian sighs. He didn't particularly appreciate those comments, but he doesn't want to be the cause of any more of Blaine's stress. Sebastian can't fault the guy. He's being honest. He didn't want to say anything to begin with; Sebastian kind of pressured him. Kurt _is_ an amazing guy, and Sebastian counts himself lucky every day when he doesn't just up and leave him for Blaine. Sometimes, Sebastian doesn't see why Kurt doesn't. And Blaine has never been anything but a gentleman to him and Kurt. If his father hadn't been an asshole, Sebastian may never have known what Blaine said to his friend about Kurt.

Besides, nothing he said gave anyone the right to punch him.

Sebastian takes a breath and cools his jets. "Then what happened?"

"He dragged me out of my room and he yelled at me. He called me worthless, ungrateful … a liar. I tried to explain, but he said he didn't want to hear it, that I could disgrace myself if I wanted to, but that he wasn't going to support it, or _me_ , anymore." Blaine runs a shaky hand beneath his eye to dry a tear, hissing when he forgets about the bruise. "He-he threw me out of the house - punched me in the face and tossed me straight down the sidewalk. He took away my phone, the keys to my car. He cut off access to my trust fund, my bank account. All I have is the money in my pockets, and that's not much. I don't … I don't even have my skates."

"Dude …"

"I actually don't think he can keep me away from my trust fund legally," Blaine says, offhandedly thinking out loud. "My grandparents set it up for me. But I need to find someone who knows about these things to help me out. Google only got me so far."

Sebastian balls his fists, livid on Blaine's behalf. What the fuck? How can any parent do this to their own kid? Sebastian doesn't doubt it. He's seen parents berate their kids over something as senseless as a fumbled pass, but it still astounds him every time. "Okay, man" - He stands off the curb and motions for Blaine to follow - "you're coming home with me."

Blaine's head snaps up, his good eye going wide with his swollen one trying its best to follow along. "Wh-what?"

"You're coming home with me. You're going to stay at my house while you figure this out. And I'm going to help you."

Blaine looks at Sebastian in awe, stuck between saying, "Okay," and just doing what he says, and shaking his head _no_. "Sebastian …"

"Look," Sebastian cuts in, sensing an objection, "I have a _huge_ house, a pool, a private rink. I know I have some clothes that will fit you … you know, if we roll up the cuffs and stuff. I even have a spare pair of skates you can use for the time being."

"Sebastian …"

"Sponsorship shit," he barrels on, trying to find something that will make Blaine shut up and get off that stupid curb. "Never even wore them. Plus …" And Sebastian grits his teeth when he says this "… you'll have nearly 24-hour access to my boyfriend. He's there all the time. He even spends the night," he adds with teeth clenched.

Blaine wants to laugh at Sebastian's agony over this offer, but he's in too much shock. It's like whiplash, how he's gone from having the man who's supposedly loved him for the past seventeen plus years kicking him out of his house and completely cutting him out of his life to this boy who barely tolerates him offering him a place to stay, access to a private rink, even a new pair of skates.

And using Kurt as a selling point, after what Blaine just said, after the history Blaine knows is there – that's got to be _killing_ him.

That's the biggest reason why Blaine can't accept. It's _too_ generous an offer.

"That's … really nice of you, Sebastian. Really. But I can't."

"Why not?" Sebastian groans. _God! The stubborn ass! It's just like arguing with Kurt!_

 _No_ , he amends quickly. _No. No, it's not. Nothing like it. They're nothing alike!_

"I can't impose," Blaine insists. "I'll manage."

"With what, Blaine?" Sebastian asks, subconsciously raising his voice. "What resources do you have, huh? You said you have no money! Who are you going to get to help you out? Lawyers are expensive, and they're not in the habit of doing shit pro bono unless you're _really_ hard up. I know, because my uncle's a lawyer!" Sebastian's lecture grinds to a halt. He smacks his forehead with his palm, feeling like a tremendous moron. The solution to Blaine's problem, and it never even occurred to him. " _He_ can help you! He can get your trust fund back!"

Blaine thinks up another objection, but he lets it evaporate back to the well of self-destructive behavior from whence it came. Why not let Sebastian help him? Who else besides Kurt _will_ , and Kurt would more than likely go to Sebastian anyway. Kurt's dad is a mechanic. His mom was a skater. Kurt's family would give Blaine the clothes off their backs, but they're not qualified to help him with this. Blaine needs a lawyer. And if Sebastian's uncle is a lawyer …

But he won't take handouts. Once he gets his trust fund, he'll pay them back.

"That would be pretty awesome."

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees. "So, you'd be an idiot to keep arguing with me. Come on." He reaches down and grabs Blaine's arm, pulling him to his feet before the thought enters his mind that it might be sprained.

"Don't you have a class or coaching or something?" Blaine asks, brushing gravel off the seat of his jeans.

"Nah. I came here to get some practice in while I waited for Kurt, but we were just going to catch some lunch and then skate," he expands, leading Blaine over to his car. "But we can do that at my place. You know, cuz I have that rink and all. Maybe you can … like … join us or something." Sebastian opens the passenger door for Blaine, directing him with a jerk of his chin to hop in. Blaine starts to sit, but stops to look at the boy with the hard green eyes, mildly glaring at him.

"Why are you doing this for me?"

Sebastian sighs exaggeratedly, dropping his head back and staring at the clouds above as if he'd rather be doing _anything_ right now other than having this conversation. "Because despite my better judgment, my boyfriend happens to like you … a _lot_. And, maybe, you know, I kind of … like you, too? I don't know. Get in the car."

"Well, will you let me know when you figure it out?" Blaine stalls, enjoying putting Sebastian in the hot seat.

Sebastian shrugs. "Probably not. Come on. Time's a-wasting."

* * *

 _Ding-dong._

 _…_

 _Ding-dong._

 _…_

 _Ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong, ding-dong …_

"Coming, coming. Hold your horses," Sebastian yells as he races for the door, a hundred-and-ten percent sure he knows who's assaulting the doorbell. He opens it, greeting his frantic boyfriend with a warm smile and arms open wide. "Hey, babe! How's it …?"

"Where is he? Is he okay? What's going on?" Kurt fires off his questions the second he walks in, brushing past his boyfriend with a barely there kiss on the lips. He looks through an adjacent doorway and scans the rec room, then peeks up the stairs in the direction of Sebastian's room in search of Blaine.

"Hello, Sebastian. How are you doing? My mother's fine by the way. Oh, and I missed you," Sebastian mumbles as he locks the door and follows Kurt, heading down the hallway towards the kitchen.

"Don't joke, Sebastian!" Kurt snaps. "I saw the pictures you texted to me! His eye!" Kurt gasps, turning and staring at Sebastian with such heartache, he feels his own heart wrench. "It looked _awful_!"

"Meh. He's a tough kid. And he wears it well." Sebastian decides not to tease Kurt further when his boyfriend calls off his search and curls into his embrace. "He says it looks worse than it feels," he adds, knowing that, because of Kurt's own experience with being bullied, he's probably way more sympathetic than Sebastian could ever be, even with all of his offers of help.

"I can't believe his father _hit_ him," Kurt says, his voice unsteady.

"Yeah. I mean, I complain about my folks a ton, but I don't think they'd ever hit me. I can't imagine what that must have been like."

Kurt shakes his head, clearing away the images that have been scrolling through his brain since he heard. "What's he going to do now?"

"He had a big long talk with my uncle, and told him everything that happened. My uncle had him make a list of all his assets, everything that belongs to him inside his parent's house, and all of his accounts. Then, my uncle called his dad, and they've been talking all afternoon." Sebastian sighs, knowing Kurt's not going to feel any better after he hears what he's about to say. "He's gotten Blaine's dad to agree to release his stuff."

"So … they're not going to let him move back in with them?"

"They offered, especially after my uncle mentioned pressing charges. Blaine's dad said they'd be willing to put this behind them, forget it ever happened" - Sebastian huffs - "as if any of this were Blaine's fault, right? Like he had an equal part in it."

"What did Blaine say about it?"

"Blaine wanted to jump at it, but my uncle told Blaine it's in his best interest to refuse. My uncle's going to get him out of that house, and then they're going to contact the police."

Kurt shakes his head like he doesn't understand. Sebastian doesn't either, to be honest. It seems so surreal, especially considering this is _Blaine_ they're talking about.

"Has Blaine's dad …?" Kurt continues to shake his head, not sure whether he wants to know the answer to the question he's about to ask. "Has he been abusing him all this time?"

"According to Blaine, no," Sebastian says, and a relieved Kurt melts in his arms. "He's a strict man, he likes to argue, but he's never raised a finger against Blaine his entire life. This was the first time." Sebastian squeezes Kurt tight. "My uncle is going to make sure it's the last."

"Good, but … where's he going to go? He isn't going to leave, is he? You said something about him leaving!"

"He'll be 18 soon," Sebastian says, rubbing soothing circles over Kurt's back. "After he gets his trust fund back, he'll be able to afford his own place, but that's once it matures. There's a few months gap before then, so my uncle and I invited him to stay here."

"Are you … are you _serious_?" Kurt whispers.

"Yeah, well, we have more than enough room. My parents won't object." Sebastian snickers. "Why would they? They probably won't know he's here."

Kurt takes a step back, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Sebastian, that's … that's so wonderful of you guys! Thank you!" Kurt throws his arms around Sebastian's neck and hugs him. "Thank you _so_ much!"

"You're welcome." Sebastian quells the urge to tell Kurt that he did this for him, because that wouldn't be entirely true. Not this time around.

Kurt loosens his grip on Sebastian's neck, leaning to look into his boyfriend's face. "You said they've been talking all afternoon."

"In my uncle's office, yeah."

"How much longer do you think they're going to be?"

"I don't know. Probably another hour or so." Sebastian raises a quizzical brow. "Why?"

Kurt smiles – it's cute, it's coy, it's a little suggestive. "Because I'm thinking … that might be just enough time for me to thank you for this … properly."

Sebastian looks at his boyfriend biting his lower lip and gazing at him through lowered lashes. Kurt doesn't have to lead Sebastian by the nose for him to assume what he's thinking. But from what they've discussed so far, Kurt isn't ready. "You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't _have_ to," Kurt says, rolling his eyes. "But … I _want_ to."

"Okay …" Sebastian is curious what's going through his boyfriend's mind. He's dying to make love to Kurt, but he's not sure this is the right time … or the right reason. But he doesn't want to reject him in a way that's going to embarrass him. "Well, define _properly_. I mean, what are my parameters here? What am I allowed to ask for?"

"A-anything," Kurt says, a little nervous that, in his excitement, he may be offering more than he's ready to give. But if that's what Sebastian wants, he'll give it, because Sebastian deserves it after this. "Anything you want."

"You promise?"

"Y-yeah. I promise."

"Then, would you go with me down to my rink and skate with me?" Sebastian asks, taking Kurt's right hand in his. "Because if there's something I don't get enough of, it's dancing on the ice with my handsome boyfriend."

Kurt smiles, grateful, but maybe with a hint of disappointment. Not enough for him to suggest a different reward, but it's still there. "It would be my pleasure."


	21. Attitude

**After Sebastian catches Blaine's coach yelling at him and calling him names, Sebastian helps Blaine take his mind off his troubles ... and ends up having a talk about Kurt that Sebastian never expected.**

 ** _A/N: So, in case you haven't guessed, the happens shortly after Blaine moves in to Sebastian's house. It's pretty Seblaine heavy at the beginning, but Kurt shows up eventually ;) Warning for angst and homophobic language._**

"Left, right, left, right, push, push, turn …" Sebastian recites more sternly, but with a little less enthusiasm than usual, as he follows his skater down the ice. "Bring your knee up higher, point your toe, deeper edges … deeper … and twizzle – one, two, three …"

"Thank you so much for doing this for me," Blaine says after he pulls out of his spin and starts working his edges. "I can do my warm-ups on my own, but I know I focus better on the fine details when my coach is with me." Blaine spins again, his eyes dropping as he swallows down his last remark, causing him to prematurely exit his last turn.

Sebastian doesn't call him on it; he just makes a motion for Blaine to repeat it, this time with his head held higher.

"Yeah, well, it bites that your coach is siding with your dad. Man, you got a raw deal when it comes to authority figures in your life."

"You could say that. But things seem to be looking up." Blaine throws Sebastian a wink as he sets up his next series of rotations, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

Sebastian has encountered several eye-roll worthy moments while hanging out with Blaine, but thus far, Sebastian doesn't have any real complaints. The boy's been the perfect houseguest. He's independent, stays out of the way, listens to his music with his headset on, and he doesn't try to monopolize Kurt's time, which was something Sebastian was originally concerned about. Blaine knows his boundaries, and he keeps to himself.

Which is why Sebastian wouldn't have known about Blaine's douchebag coach lecturing him for over an hour about loyalty and family values had he not ventured to the guest room to let Blaine know that he was going down to his rink to wait for Kurt in case Blaine wanted to tag along.

The invitation was from Kurt really. Blaine seemed to become withdrawn after moving in to Sebastian's house. He went about his normal routine of exercise and skate practice, but aside from that, he mostly stayed in his room. He did his homework, watched YouTube videos, chatted with Kurt online, but otherwise, he'd become a hermit. Kurt worried that Blaine had started blaming himself for the way things went down with his dad. Leaving your family behind, especially because your father is a homophobe, is a hell of a thing.

Kurt wanted to cheer him up.

The door to the guest room was open a crack, and from down the hall, Sebastian could hear Blaine's coach yelling at him over the phone.

And the man wasn't even on speaker.

It pissed Sebastian off royally because he, too, had been lectured on loyalty by his last coach – the same man who had conspired to manipulate him and the whole Westerville Elite team.

But it was worse for Blaine.

Blaine's coach had been with him since he first started skating at the age of four. His parents trusted the man completely. He traveled with Blaine, and took care of him on away trips when his parents couldn't attend. He helped Blaine find sponsors, signed him up for competitions. He went over to Blaine's house on every holiday, every birthday, and every special occasion. He was an honorary member of the Anderson family.

It was like having his father disown him all over again.

Sebastian didn't know what came over him. He had intended on lingering outside Blaine's door until the man was done with his rant, then invite Blaine out for a cheeseburger so he could vent, but the man wouldn't stop talking. He said the word _disgusting_ more times than Sebastian could count, threw in a dash of _ungrateful_ , then added a few sprinkles of the word _perverted_. It's when he called Blaine a _fag_ that Sebastian snapped. He stormed in, grabbed Blaine's phone, and said, "Yeah, yeah, you're disappointed. We get it. You're also an asshole. Blaine already has one of those. He doesn't need another one. Eff off and don't call back until you're ready to apologize."

He disconnected the call and threw Blaine's phone on the bed. The room became quiet – so quiet, Sebastian didn't know if Blaine was even breathing. He stared at him with red-rimmed eyes, his bottom lip chewed to pieces. Sebastian didn't know whether Blaine was going to start crying or screaming, but he didn't give him a chance to do either. He grabbed Blaine's skate bag, held it out to him, and said, "Come on. We're going to go through your warm-up," with no mention of Kurt whatsoever.

And Blaine silently agreed, tossing the strap over his shoulder and obediently following the boy who, though Blaine wasn't his favorite person, had stood up for him again.

Sebastian is glad he did. Blaine didn't deserve to be lectured, and he didn't deserve to be called a fag. But ever since, Blaine has been beaming at him like a rescued puppy, causing Sebastian to roll his eyes so many times, he feels a migraine coming on.

"Okay," Sebastian says after Blaine performs four clean twizzles in a row, "let's try a jump. Why don't you show me a double axel?"

"Yes, sir." Blaine salutes, then takes off. He builds up speed, but instead of a double, he performs a triple, landing with a slight wobble on the finish.

Sebastian sighs, then rolls his eyes, with a pinchy finish right between his brows. "Show off," he scolds.

"Always have been," Blaine quips.

"Well, if you're going to be one, land it clean. Try it again, but this time, give yourself plenty of lead in."

Blaine turns on the ball of his foot and skates a quarter lap, giving himself enough momentum to perform the jump. He sets up his take off, his form perfect, but at the last minute, he becomes distracted and performs a double – a _strong_ double, but a double nonetheless. It reminds Sebastian of Kurt way back when, and he groans.

Why does Blaine remind him of Kurt so damn much?

Sebastian gives Blaine the benefit of a slow clap, but raises an eyebrow when Blaine brings it in.

"What happened?" Sebastian asks. "That was a nice double and all, but you promised me a triple."

"I'm sorry. I think I'm letting what happened this morning get in the way."

"You can't do that, man," Sebastian says, trying not to sound short. But he can't help it. It has nothing to do with Blaine and everything to do with the situation he's in, but Sebastian has never been good at tempering his opinions. "You can't bring that in here. You have to leave it at the door."

Blaine comes to stop a few feet away from Sebastian, but he doesn't continue his warm-up. He looks at the boy in front of him with conflicted eyes, chewing on a lower lip that's bitten raw.

"Is that what you did?" Blaine asks, honestly but tersely, as if he's trying his hardest not to lash out, too. "Left it at the door? Because Kurt told me that you were famous in Westerville for being emotionally unattached. He said you were unflappable in competition. Nothing seemed to get to you." It sounds like an accusation the way Blaine says it. If Sebastian had to guess what Blaine's getting at, he'd put his money on Blaine wanting to know how he could hurt Kurt the way he did, watch his team hurt Kurt the way they had, and then turn around and win a gold medal.

But Sebastian isn't sure that Blaine even knows about that.

He's been too afraid to ask.

"Is that _all_ Kurt told you?"

Blaine's expression doesn't change when he answers, but his voice becomes icier. "He told me enough."

Sebastian didn't see this conversation coming. Not now, not in a million years. He can't imagine that Kurt told Blaine everything. Kurt's not fond of oversharing. But Blaine is his best friend aside from Sebastian. Whatever Blaine _does_ know has caused his eyes to frost over, but on the day to day, it doesn't color the way Blaine treats Sebastian overall. He acts like he wants to be Sebastian's friend, but maybe he does for the same reason Sebastian has been so open about Blaine.

For _Kurt_.

And, surprisingly, that stings.

"Let me start over," Sebastian says. "Because Kurt's right. And so am I, but less so."

Blaine cocks his hip and crosses his arms, so much like Kurt that Sebastian has a difficult time looking at him.

"During competition, I was really good at leaving my personal life outside the rink. When my grades slipped, when I couldn't land a jump, when my parents ignored me …"

Blaine tilts his head. His eyes soften. Apparently, Kurt didn't tell Blaine about Sebastian's parents. But he wouldn't have, because that isn't his secret to tell

"… I could push it all aside. But that didn't matter because how you skate is who you are. I was kind of a shit person, and that made me a shit skater."

"Really?" Blaine chuckles, more sarcastically than Sebastian would have imagined him doing. "Because those trophies and plaques you have all over the walls tell a slightly different story."

"I earned those by being part of a team," Sebastian explains, understanding where Blaine's anger comes from. It's the same place that Kurt's anger used to come from – seeing someone who isn't a good person still come out on top, even if they don't necessarily deserve it. Kurt watched bullies succeed while it seemed he and his family were destined for failure regardless of how hard they tried. Blaine is watching people he loved and trusted turn out to be imposters – charlatans of the cruelest kind, willing to accept him for who he could be on paper, but not who he really is. And when this is all over, they'll continue to be successful. What they've done to him won't negatively affect them, save for the fact that they'll be down one Blaine Anderson, which everyone appears willing to live with.

Meanwhile, Blaine has the potential for a future where regardless of how successful he becomes or how many medals he wins, how many Make-A-Wish wishes he fulfills or how many charities he donates his time and money to, someone will hate him because he's gay. Professionally he might be denied opportunities, find himself left off the guest lists of certain functions because of it, and even though plenty of people will be disgusted on his behalf and wear rainbow flag pins to his performances to show their support, just as many people will feel justified in their prejudice.

"Being attached to the Elite name had a lot of perks. And as part of the team, I won a ton of awards. But that doesn't make me a great skater. It's the trophies I earned as part of a different team - after Elite, when I started dating Kurt - that I'm most proud of. _Those_ are the ones that matter."

"And where are those?"

"They're down at the rink, in the trophy case. You've seen them. They have Kurt's name on them in big letters."

"I _have_ seen them. But I don't remember seeing your name on them anywhere," Blaine points out.

"Nope. But I was his coach at the time. Kurt has an amazing talent, but he's also a genuine person. He didn't have to be part of Elite to earn those trophies … and he proved to me that neither did I."

"Does Kurt leave his life at the door when he skates?"

"To a degree, yes. His mom's diagnosis, the bullies from school … even me – he's had to leave those all by the rink side. But Kurt's a good person, so he brings the best of himself with him on the ice. And being with him has changed me. It's made me better. So when I coach him, he takes the best of me with him, too."

Blaine nods slowly. He starts skating again, picking up where he left off with his backward spirals. Sebastian doesn't say anything, following along quietly and waiting for Blaine to come back from wherever that was they just took a journey to.

"I'm … I'm sorry," Blaine says, preparing to perform a layback spin. "I don't mean to sound like I'm biting your head off or anything. It's just …"

"Dude, your attitude's weak."

Blaine stutters to a full stop. He stands up straight, his face a blank slate. "I-I'm sorry. Like I was trying to say, it's been a little hard to stay positive lately when …"

"What?" Sebastian looks from Blaine's posture to his guilty expression, nose scrunched. "No, that's okay. Forget about it. I mean your leg lift. Your foot needs to come up higher."

"Oh." Blaine laughs, the iciness in his demeanor completely melting away. "You and Kurt both switch subjects fast enough to give a guy whiplash, do you know that?"

"Kurt can touch his head with the back of his knee when he skates," Sebastian says, subconsciously blushing at the fact that Blaine pointed out something that he and Kurt do the same. Sebastian didn't realize they had any similarities. It's nice to know there is one, especially when Sebastian can clearly see Kurt and Blaine being the perfect match. "I expect you to get your leg at least half that high."

"FYI, your boyfriend is a cheerleader," Blaine says with a suggestive growl.

"Stop with the excuses, Anderson. You don't have to be a cheerleader to get your leg up high. It just takes determination and practice. So, let's see it."

Blaine looks down at his leg, as if conferring with it over its abilities. "I don't think I'm stretched out enough to get my leg that high."

"Didn't you stretch out this morning?" Sebastian asks. "I thought I heard you go for a jog at the butt crack of dawn."

"Yeah, but stretching out my legs is a bit more involved than that. I got into a bicycle accident when I was around ten, and ever since then, my adductors always get stiff in the cold."

"Doesn't everyone's?"

"I guess …"

Sebastian looks at Blaine, unmoved by his story. Blaine looks at Sebastian, hope glittering in his hazel eyes. Sebastian blinks first, losing this unintended staring contest. He lets loose with a dramatic sigh and another eye roll. "I'm going to have to touch you, aren't I?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Ugh!" Sebastian groans, following Blaine to the wall. "The things I do for my boyfriend, you know?" The words slip out, and they sound bad, but Blaine just laughs.

"Boyfriend?" He grabs the edge and raises his right leg behind him. Sebastian bends at the knees a few inches so Blaine can rest his shin on his shoulder, then stands upright slowly, lifting Blaine's leg and getting closer to the boy's ass than he's ever wanted to. "I'm flattered, but aren't you dating Kurt?"

Sebastian smacks Blaine's arm until he reaches back so Sebastian can grab hold of his forearms and pull. "How did I not notice that you were this much of a smartass, Anderson?"

"I'd say you're getting a decent view of my ass now, Smythe."

"Ha … ha," Sebastian deadpans, turning his head purposefully so he doesn't accidentally look. "Just so you know, if you fart on me, I'll break you in half."

"Well, well, well. Aren't the two of you precious? Is this the kind of kinky stuff you guys do when I'm not around? Because if it is, I think I'm jealous."

"Kurt!" At the sound of Kurt's voice, Sebastian shoots backward away from Blaine so quickly that Blaine's leg drops before he can stop it. His skate hits the ice, his toe pick taking a sizable chunk out.

"This …" Sebastian looks from a snickering Blaine to a smirking Kurt with wide, frightened eyes "… this isn't what it looks like."

"It's not?" Kurt asks, casually parking his skate bag beside the ice. "Because it looks to me like you're helping Blaine stretch out his adductors."

"Oh," Sebastian says with a chirp of surprise that makes Blaine laugh so hard, he snorts. "Then it _is_ what it looks like."

Kurt shakes his head. "Why are you so nervous?" he asks, untying his shoes.

Sebastian glides over, leaving Blaine to finish his stretching alone so he can have a word with his boyfriend in private. "I just thought you might get upset. I mean, I didn't want you to think I was coaching him or …"

"Or cheating on me?" Kurt abandons his shoelaces to loop his arms around Sebastian's neck. "Why would I think that?"

"Well" – Sebastian reciprocates with his arms around Kurt's waist – "that _was_ kind of a compromising position you just found us in."

"And if you were both naked in your room, I might be suspicious. But you're down here, on the ice, with skates on." Kurt giggles, an image popping into his head of Sebastian and Blaine fumbling to have sex while in their skates, pushing one another around in circles on the ice without even getting their pants undone. It's far too ridiculous an image for him to get upset over. "Besides, after that text message you sent about his coach …" Kurt tsks his silly boyfriend, his lips gently brushing his. "Sebastian, I'd like to think that _you_ think I'm smart enough to put two and two together."

"Yeah, you are." Sebastian attempts to steal a kiss, but fails when Kurt playfully pulls away. "I just … I still get worried. I have you. I don't want to ever lose you."

"I think it's nice of you to help him," Kurt says, running his nose over Sebastian's, smiling as his boyfriend's mouth chases his. "I'm just wondering …"

"Hmm …?" Sebastian hums, his focus on Kurt's lips. "Wondering what?"

"If I get to be next." Kurt bats his eyelashes in that innocent way of his that's not so innocent, and Sebastian's body heat rises, soaring high enough to melt the ice he's standing on.

"Of course you are," he whispers, finally succeeding in swiping that kiss he's been trying to get for the past few minutes. "Any and every muscle you need loosened. I'm here for you, babe."

"But, Sebastian," Blaine interjects, sliding to a T-stop behind him. "I thought we had something special."

Kurt bursts out with a laugh so loud, he has to cover his mouth and turn his head away to silence it. Sebastian, hugging Kurt tighter, trying not to lose hold of that incredible heat, turns on Blaine with a finger pointed at his face.

"Quiet, you! Go work on your attitude."


	22. Movie Night

**Sebastian comes home from his tutor to find Kurt and Blaine watching the movie Ice Princess and playing a drinking game.**

 _ **A/N: This is just a random cute moment that happens some time after Blaine moves into Sebastian's house.**_

"I will never understand this scene," Kurt grumbles, wrapping his fingers around the long neck of the bottle Blaine offers him, accepting it with a grateful nod.

"What don't you get?" Blaine asks, hiccupping from drinking too quickly. "Because I have a _huge_ list of complaints about it."

"Okay, okay, check it out …" Kurt scoots up in his sofa cushion and crosses his legs "… they're at this big, important competition …"

"Yeah …"

"With all of these professional people in attendance – coaches, judges, vendors, probably a few scouts …"

"A-ha …"

"And you mean to tell me that the chick in the pro shop just frickin' _sold_ her a pair of brand new skates without even mentioning that they needed to be broken in first?"

"I know, right!?"

"They would have had to have been heat molded at the very least, so wouldn't it have come up?" Kurt takes a swig from the bottle before passing it back to Blaine and finishing his gripe. "Everyone there knows that coach lady's kind of a snake! She got tossed out of the Olympics! No one's going to forget _that_! And pro shop chick had to have known Casey was competing! She's wearing several hundred dollars' worth of vintage costume right there!"

"Exactly," Blaine agrees, followed by a choked burp and a quiet, " _Excuse me_ ". Kurt grimaces at his friend, but shakes it off in lieu of more complaining.

"And how did super smart what's-her-face not know that those skates needed to be broken in anyway? She was so passionate about figure skating, she just grabbed a pair of skates from the thrift store …"

"… more like the trash can …" Blaine slides in under his breath.

"… and decided to just go for it, base an entire physics project on it, her whole Harvard application, and did absolutely _no_ research on, you know, _skating_?"

"It is a _Disney_ movie," Blaine points out, swinging the nearly empty bottle by the neck as he gestures towards the TV screen. "They're not exactly known for accuracy."

"But they dragged poor Michelle Kwan and Brian Boitano into this mess. I weep."

"What about at the beginning when she 'accidentally' lands that triple in those old ass skates? _Tell me_ how she didn't snap her ankle off!"

"Exactly!" Kurt agrees. "The first time I even attempted a triple axel, my right knee throbbed for the rest of the afternoon. And there she is, skating around like it's nothing, hur-da-dur-da-dur …"

Sebastian can hear Kurt and Blaine from all the way down the hall as he walks into the house, groaning like old men watching kids run across their lawn. He shakes his head and drops his book bag, then makes his way to the rec room to see what the heck they're watching that's got them up in arms. He gets as far as the doorway, but that's close enough when he catches sight of the movie playing on the flat screen.

"Ugh! _Ice Princess_?" he moans. "What the - how are you even watching this?"

"Hey, Seb," Kurt says, waving at his boyfriend behind his head. "It's on Netflix."

"Hey, Sebastian," Blaine follows with a similar wave. "How's it hanging?"

"A little to the left. What's wrong with you guys? I would rather do _Calculus homework_ than watch this. In fact, that's _exactly_ what I'm going to go do," he decides, frowning since what he _wants_ to do is make-out with his boyfriend. He doesn't mind Blaine sticking around while they do it, but that movie they're watching literally makes him want to hurl.

"Oh, don't be such a spoiled sport!" Blaine teases. "Come join us!"

"Yeah!" Kurt cheers. "We've made it into a drinking game. Whenever we point out something stupid, we take a shot."

"A shot?" Sebastian raises an eyebrow. He can't picture Kurt or Blaine raiding his parents' liquor cabinet, or getting someone older to buy them alcohol. But the two of them, with their flushed faces, on the verge of giggling after every sentence, could definitely pass as tipsy. "Of _what_ , may I ask?"

"Sparkling cider." Blaine raises the half-empty bottle of Martinelli's non-alcoholic cider he and Kurt have been sharing over his head. Sebastian spies two other empty bottles sitting on the floor beside the sofa, and realizes why they're acting so goofy.

 _Sugar rush_.

When you spend the majority of your time eating clean for competition, the way Kurt and Blaine have been the past few weeks, even the tiniest bit of sugar can turn you into a tremendous dork.

"Not for me," Sebastian says. "I've still got a few days before my prelim. I don't feel like getting bloated."

"If you'd be willing to join us, I could change the stakes a little," Kurt offers, bouncing his eyebrows at his boyfriend.

Sebastian responds with a curious grin. "How?"

"Well, if you can think up something stupid, I'll give you a kiss instead."

Sebastian's grin widens. He already feels victorious. "I feel bad agreeing. That's almost too easy."

"Prove it."

"Like this scene," he says, approaching the sofa. "Zambonis aren't street legal. How the hell did he drive that mothereffer to her spot to resurface her pond without getting pulled over and impounded?"

"Oooo, one point for Smythe." Kurt raises his arms at his approaching boyfriend and makes grabby hands. "Come get your kiss."

Sebastian vaults over the back of the sofa, landing deftly on a cushion between the two friends. Kurt loops his arms around Sebastian's neck as Sebastian grabs him by the hips, fingers locked in his belt loops, to claim his kiss.

"Okay, well, how about the fact that Casey's supposedly a physics _genius_ and she never figured out how to plane her pond," Blaine says, trying to one-up Sebastian. "Joe Schmoe Kanuck living in Ottawa has been resurfacing his backyard rink with a garden hose and a rake for decades. She was accepted to _Harvard,_ and she couldn't figure it out?"

"Mmm-hmm!" Kurt mumbles, giving Blaine an enthusiastic thumbs up, but he doesn't disengage from his boyfriend's lips. He pulls Sebastian down towards the sofa arm, rearranging his limbs so he can wind his legs around Sebastian's waist. Soon, the two of them are rolled together like snakes - the movie, the game, and _Blaine_ , completely forgotten.

"Welp," a disgruntled Blaine mutters, cracking open another bottle of cider and taking a drink, "something tells me they just won."


	23. Final Game

**After his final hockey game, Kurt gets stopped on the way out of the rink by a boy who came a long way looking for an important interview.**

"Kurt! Kurt Hummel! Can I have a word with you? Please?"

Kurt looks up when he hears his name being called, rather enthusiastically, from the direction of the front door. Straining against exhaustion to drag his enormous gear bag down the carpeted hallway, he sighs. He's five feet from the corner that leads to the stupid front door himself, with his Navigator parked just a few feet beyond that.

Close. He's _so_ close.

The last traces of postgame adrenaline quickly circle the drain, threatening to plunge Kurt into oblivion before he has the chance to drive home and take a proper shower. He downright refuses to shower in the locker rooms at the rink for any reason (barring nuclear fallout, of course). He's seen those suckers backup during the rainy season. The black, goopy sewage that comes bubbling through those pipes is enough to keep him from ever setting foot in those showers.

He's been told by Coach Beiste that the rink deep cleans the grout and disinfects the tiles every six months, but he'll never be convinced that any amount of cleaning gets all that garbage out.

Even after wiping down with an entire box of Yuni shower sheets in the relative safety of the coach's office and switching into a fresh change of clothes, he can feel latent sweat coagulating on his skin. _Ugh_! Just the thought of the bacteria that must be seeping into his pores makes him want to retch. But grossed out and tired beyond belief, he still manages to find a smile for the young man bounding his way, dressed in head to toe Abercrombie and Fitch, and waving his cell phone over his head like a beacon to ensure Kurt will see him.

"You're here kind of late," Kurt points out, gently setting his bag down. "Everyone else is gone."

The boy slows to a walk, and Kurt can't help noticing how clean and unwrinkled he appears for having just watched a hockey game – one that was standing room only before it even began. Kurt isn't one for stereotyping, but in his crisp, clean, button-down shirt and spotless charcoal-grey slacks, he doesn't strike Kurt as the 'hockey enthusiast' type.

He seems more like the 'watching an Indie band play at the opening of a new fusion restaurant' type.

"I know," he says, "but I wanted to catch you before you went out celebrating."

"Actually, I plan on celebrating at _home,_ alone _,_ with a long, hot shower and a mug of warm milk," Kurt says, subtly hinting at the fact that he would really like to get going.

The boy catches on quickly, his bright smile slipping at the corners. "Oh. I'm sorry. I understand completely. It's just … my name's Colin Quinn, and I was hoping I could interview you for my paper. I came here all the way from Dayton."

"Wow. That's far," Kurt admits, rubbing his sore shoulder.

"Yeah. I-I waited till everyone else left because I … wanted to talk to you alone."

"Oh?" Kurt raises a cautious eyebrow. This late in the season, it's not too unusual to see reporters from the local papers and from the high schools in the stands. But they normally descend immediately following the final buzzer, and they mostly want to talk to Sebastian, seeing as he's team captain. During his short but illustrious tenure as a hockey player, Kurt has had his picture in the paper once or twice before, but he rarely gets approached for an interview, even on the few occasions when the article centers around him. "And which paper is that?"

"It's kind of a new one," Colin says, fidgeting nervously with his phone. "It's my pet project. I run it, I print it, I circulate it. I also take the pictures and write all the articles."

"That sounds like a lot of wo— _aaahhh_ -rk." Kurt yawns – a first of many, he knows. Since he's stopped moving, he's losing momentum, minutes away from falling asleep on his feet. He doesn't want to be rude to this kid. He _did_ drive over an hour to talk to him, after all. But still, Kurt starts thinking of anything he can do to move this interview along.

"It is. It's mainly aimed at LGBT+ students on my high school campus." Colin's voice lowers, probably out of habit, Kurt assumes, seeing as there's absolutely no one consciously around to overhear them. His eyes drop, and he starts shifting uncomfortably on his feet. "We don't have much in the way of readership. I think that maybe some of the kids at school don't want to be associated with my paper? Because they're scared? But I was hoping, you know, that by featuring people who are part of our community and kind of kick ass, I'll get more support."

Kurt starts to wake up after Colin's explanation. Aside from being flattered, he knows exactly how Colin feels. He had hoped for the longest time that by being a visible out-and-proud gay at McKinley, he might inspire other closeted gay kids to come out. And that having strength in numbers might benefit them all. Together they could change the political landscape of McKinley High. They could start a chapter of PFLAG on campus, have their own LGBT student union. They'd have a support system, one that could stand united against bullies and discrimination.

They would have a voice, one that couldn't be ignored.

But it backfired. In the end, all it seemed to do was make him more of an outcast, put a bigger bull's eye on his back.

He can't turn Colin away now, not when he's trying to succeed at something Kurt himself failed so royally at.

"Are you sure you don't want to talk to Sebastian instead?" Kurt asks, certain that, under the superlative of "kickass", his boyfriend fits the bill a bit more accurately. "To be honest, _he's_ the star hockey player around here. The team wouldn't be half as good without him. I'm really just a glorified EBUG*."

"I know why you'd think that, but I've been following your career for a while now ..." Colin begins to blush uncontrollably "… and I think _you're_ where the real story lies."

"And why is that?" Kurt asks, hiding a devious grin behind another serendipitous yawn. Colin's face goes drastically pale, and Kurt feels bad about putting the boy on the spot – but only slightly. If he's going to keep Kurt from getting home on the ASAP and passing out for the next twenty-seven hours, Kurt's going to put him in the hot seat.

"Oh God," Colin mutters, an anxious chuckle cutting in, "there's no good answer to that one."

"It's alright. I promise, whatever you say, I won't take offense."

"Okay." Colin takes a deep breath, his eyes once again falling as he assembles his thoughts into an explanation that he hopes will sound better out loud than it does in his head. "Well … yeah, so … um … when you read about LGBT people in the media, a lot of times they focus on those actors, athletes, and activists who are … _passing_ …" Colin lets the word linger, eyes rising slowly to assess the look on Kurt's face, wary of what he might see. Kurt, for his part, keeps his expression impassive, waiting patiently for further explanation, but he knows what Colin is getting at. And as much as he could be upset over Colin's reasoning, or offended on Sebastian's behalf, Kurt has to admit that Colin has a point. "Gay men are acceptable if they can be hyper-masculine alpha males. Trans people are okay if they can pass 100% for their gender. Lesbian women are fine as long as they're model gorgeous, that sort of thing …"

"Yeah," Kurt says sadly. "I know what you mean."

"With your boyfriend …" Colin's face pinches. He knows he's treading into dangerous territory, but there's nowhere for him to go from here but forward. If he's going to be a journalist, he can't shy away from difficult topics, even if that means possibly insulting people he admires "… I see someone that most people wouldn't peg as gay in particular because they have a preconceived notion of how gay men look and act. And Sebastian doesn't fit that. But you … a-and me … even if we _were_ straight, people might automatically assume …"

"I understand," Kurt intervenes, giving poor Colin a pass from having to explain any further, especially since he's holding his phone so tight in his hands, the screen might crack.

"Sebastian on the cover of my newspaper, dressed in his hockey uniform, might get me more readers, gay _and_ straight - I'll admit that. But it won't have the impact that _you_ will. Not to the kids who really need to see a person that represents who they might see when they look at themselves in the mirror."

"It's alright," Kurt says, putting a hand on Colin's shoulder when he hears the boy's voice shake. "I get it. You don't have to say anything else."

Colin nods, a pained but grateful smile stretching his lips. "I-I don't want to take up too much of your time. I only have a handful of questions."

Kurt gives Colin's shoulder a squeeze before going back to rubbing his own stiff muscles. "Go for it. Lord knows I need a break from lugging all my stuff around."

"Wonderful!" Colin stops throttling his phone, switches it to the camera setting, and starts recording. "Okay, well, to start, that was an exciting game! You had that goal _covered_! I mean, shot after shot, you were _on it_! It must have taken a lot out of you!"

Kurt yawns again - a long one this time - before he answers. "You can say that." He laughs. "Figure skating is _hard_ , but hockey is hell on a whole other level."

"Would you say that hockey is harder than figure skating?"

"Yes and no," Kurt says, massaging his other arm. "There's so much technique you need to master in figure skating –required elements, posture, edge placement, arm movement ... Remembering it all can get exhausting! You need to have the grace of a ballerina, the strength of a football player, and the balance of a trapeze artist, all the while knowing that one wrong landing can, at least, end your career, and at worst, injure you for life."

"That sounds terrifying!" Colin says, snapping a quick picture before Kurt can yawn again.

"It is. You have to be a special kind of crazy to want to be a figure skater, especially for those of us who've broken a wrist or a leg and still get back on our blades. But you have to be a special kind of crazy to play hockey, too. It requires just as much strength and skill. The finer details may not matter the way they do in figure skating, but power and agility do. Plus, you have to be able to look ninety places at once, anticipate the moves of a dozen different people, and control your blades all while pushing a puck the size of a small avocado around the ice."

"It seems like hockey would be the safer sport, though, because you get to wear all sorts of padding and a helmet."

"Believe me, that helps," Kurt replies, "but it's still scary to see three or four equally padded players racing at you at Mach 30 with sticks in their hands, who have no problem knocking you to the ice or flipping you in the air. A few of them even keep tallies of how many teeth they knock out in a single season – theirs _and_ other players'!"

"Yikes!" Colin laughs, more at ease than he'd been a few minutes ago. "That final play though, with you throwing yourself in the way of that forward …" Colin shakes his head in disbelief.

"That was all Sebastian's idea," Kurt says proudly. "He pinpointed that kid's weakness right off the bat and came up with that play. Sebastian is an exceptional hockey player, but he's one helluva captain."

"But the goalies pull all the weight, right?" Colin says with a wink.

"That's right." Kurt gets the feeling that Colin might be flirting with him. But Kurt doesn't get any negative vibes from Colin, who's already acknowledged that Kurt has boyfriend, so he doesn't let it bother him. The way Colin talks, the way he behaves, the way he dresses, reminds Kurt of Blaine. He thinks Colin and Blaine could even hit it off.

Bearing that in mind, Kurt wonders if Colin is single …

"Still, if that play didn't go the way he planned, that could have put you out for not just the next hockey season, but figure skating as well."

"True. But I didn't _have_ to do it. He gives me the option to decide how much risk I want to take. He knows what's at stake. It was kind of a harebrained and gutsy move, but then again, that describes Sebastian to a T. I think he was trying to make my final game one to remember, you know?"

"It definitely was that. It's great that you guys have that kind of relationship."

"We do have a great relationship. But Sebastian cares about his _entire_ team. We're not mindless pawns to him. He doesn't force any one of his players to do something they're uncomfortable with. He always keeps a plan b and c up his sleeve, and they're equally as brilliant as plan a."

Colin glances nonchalantly left and right, as if he's expecting someone else to join them. "So, where is Sebastian? Is he out celebrating with the team?"

Kurt's shoulders stiffen up again at the mention of his boyfriend. "No," he grumbles, and thumbs behind him to the gear bag he's been pulling. Colin peeks over Kurt's shoulder and snickers. There, lying on top of Kurt's bag, which is larger than most considering the size of the pads in it, is Sebastian, curled into the fetal position and knocked out cold.

"Does that happen a lot?" Colin asks. He raises his phone to snap a photo of Kurt's sleeping boyfriend, but waits for Kurt to give him the ok, which Kurt does with a jerk of his head that could be best translated as _be my guest_.

"It's about 50/50, to be honest."

"You'd think he'd help you out, seeing as you were obviously the MVP of this game."

"Yeah, well, you said it yourself," Kurt says, bracing himself for the moment when he's going to half to lift the handle to his gear bag and roll Sebastian's ass out to his SUV, "goalies pull all the weight."

* * *

 _Notes: * EBUG stands for Emergency Backup Goalie. Kurt starts off playing hockey as an EBUG before he becomes a part of the team. You'll be reading more about that later on._


	24. Fresh and New

**In an effort to know one another better, Kurt asks a question that strikes a nerve in both Sebastian and Blaine.**

 _ **A/N: Takes place some time after "Movie Night" with a comment that refers back to that chapter so if you haven't read it, do :)**_

"Okay …" Kurt grins at his own genius as Sebastian slides in front of him, takes his hands, and they begin to skate "… for the grand prize and all of the marbles …"

"Hit me." Sebastian twirls Kurt once, then slips an arm around his waist. Kurt responds with a hand on Sebastian's shoulder.

"What is your absolute favorite thing about skating on freshly surfaced ice?" Kurt strokes with his right blade and glides forward, matching a rhythm Sebastian sets as he mirrors Kurt's glide in reverse. It's an hour before twilight. The rays of setting sun light the ice of Sebastian's private rink, making it look like they're skating on a lake of gold.

"I think the cuts that I make," Sebastian answers without any effort spent on thinking. "Looking back at the ice and knowing that I put those marks there, from the crazy, zig-zag cuts to the divots and the sheers. For me, it's exhilarating."

Kurt nods, the corners of his mouth curling with the slight roll of his eyes. "Yup. Just as I suspected."

"What's that?"

"You're a narcissist."

From across the rink, where he's working on his edges, Blaine snickers.

"That's not what I mean," Sebastian says, immediately jumping to the defensive. "Skating is an art. Skaters aren't just the artists, we're the tools that create it. But unless someone's videoing us, we don't get a chance to see it. Those cuts we make on the ice, _those_ we can see. It's proof of what we did. We leave them behind after our performance is complete. And when I'm done, I can go back and examine the curves and the swirls and remember. But not just that. They're so telling. Sometimes they reveal things that I didn't know about myself, like where I put my weight, how tight my spins were, if I cut out of a move too early or if I landed uneven. It's a way of communicating with myself, gauging my own progress, which is important to me even more now that I don't have a coach."

"Wow," Kurt says, the sarcasm in his eyes and smile gone as Sebastian's own eyes dart to his skates. "That's … so deep. I never thought about it that way."

"Yeah, well, that's me." Sebastian raises Kurt's arm and spins him, smirking when their eyes meet. "I'm deep as _fuck_." Kurt laughs, but Blaine, working on his power pulls, is conspicuously silent. "How about you?"

"I …" Kurt looks from his boyfriend's face to the windows across the ice, the light flooding through them filling the rink with a beautiful but painfully bright glow. "I used to make it a point not to be one of the first people out on the ice. So, until recently, I really didn't give it much thought because I didn't skate on the ice right after it was resurfaced. I always waited until everyone else got on."

Sebastian tilts his head in confusion, utterly perplexed as to why any skater, especially one of Kurt's caliber, wouldn't jump at the chance to be first out on a freshly cut surface. "Why?"

"It just didn't seem right." Kurt shifts his weight back, pulling Sebastian towards him and changing directions. "It didn't seem like I should get that honor. I mean, I had no doubt that I belonged on the ice with all of the other freestyle skaters, it's just … being the first one out? It seemed like it should go to someone bigger than me. That's all."

"I used to make sure I was _always_ the first person out on the ice," Sebastian admits with a heavy swallow. Kurt slides the hand resting on Sebastian's shoulder to his neck, starts massaging the muscles there.

"That's not a bad thing," he says reassuringly, imagining a young, smug Sebastian tossing on his skates, tying them tight, then barreling onto the ice; the pride he must have felt being the first one on. Kurt knows a lot of kids like that, who rush through their off-ice warm-ups the second they see the Zamboni take its last turn on the ice just so they can have the honor of being first. Some of them don't even wait until the driver has shoveled the last of the snow and closed the bay doors. They leap on and take off with their mothers yelling warnings behind them, stroking or racing or striking whatever graceful pose they've stretched enough to hit, sailing across the sleek surface like majestic ships on a calm sea.

Kurt understands why Sebastian is upset, but he has to admit, even at his cruelest, Sebastian was one of the most graceful skaters to ever hit the ice.

He deserved to be first.

"Yeah, well, all things considered," Sebastian says, leaning into his boyfriend's fingers, "I can't help but feel like it is."

"How about you, Blaine?" Kurt asks when their path and his path intersect, changing the subject slightly. "What's your favorite thing about skating on fresh ice?"

"My favorite thing about skating on fresh ice …" Blaine starts, the focus never leaving his face as he glides along on one leg, with Kurt and Sebastian changing speed to follow "… is hearing the noise my blades make – the swish-swish when I'm stroking, or the roar when I'm doing power pulls. That clap like thunder when I land a triple perfectly. Nothing tops that. It's the most amazing sound in the world."

"And you called _me_ a narcissist," Sebastian whispers. With a scrunch of his lips, Kurt reaches further up Sebastian's neck and tugs sharply at a strand of his hair, shushing his boyfriend without saying a word.

"When I first started skating," Blaine continues, "when I first knew that skating was all I wanted to do for the rest of my life, my parents would take me to the rink closest to our house to practice. We'd go during public skate but after school let out, when they knew it would be busiest. You see, my dad didn't originally like the idea of having a figure skater for a son, so my parents tried to discourage me whenever they could. They wouldn't buy me my own skates, so I had to use those awful rentals. The blades would be covered in rust, and they were never sharpened. My folks also filled my own afterschool schedule with soccer and Tae Kwon Do, s0 by the time we got there, the ice was so cut up that even the good skaters were falling all over themselves. But none of that mattered to me, because even a bad day on the ice was a good day, you know?"

Blaine changes direction with a long, wistful sigh. Kurt and Sebastian pull closer together, nearly hugging one another as the distance between them and Blaine drifts farther apart.

"Eventually, when I showed no sign of stopping, they realized they weren't going to have a soccer player or a martial artist for a son, so they broke down. They got me lessons, a coach, and a new pair of skates. I remember the first time I got fitted for skates, my father said, 'Just promise me this won't make you gay.' The thing is that … I already was." Blaine lowers his leg and glides to a stop. "I knew I wasn't like him, or my brother. I didn't want the relationships that they had. I saw myself with a family and kids, but with a handsome husband, not a beautiful bride, and … I didn't think there was anything strange about it, or wrong with it. I was so young then, it never dawned on me how much my dad would hate me if I was gay. When you're a kid, that's not something you ever see happening. It's unfathomable."

Blaine's shoulders drop. Sebastian and Kurt look at one another – Kurt with a furrowed brow and sympathetic eyes; Sebastian with the same sympathy, but also a hint of annoyance. Kurt's brow furrows further, and Sebastian rolls his eyes.

"Okay," Sebastian says. "You win."

Blaine spins around to face the hugging couple, his eyebrows high on his forehead. "Really?"

"Yeah," Sebastian says as Blaine bounces on his toe picks. "You definitely had the saddest story. So, what will it be?"

"Goony Golf!" Blaine cheers, zooming towards the edge of the rink to take off his skates.

"Next time, can we just draw straws or pick numbers to see who gets to choose what we do on Friday night?" Kurt asks. He tries to follow Blaine, but gets pulled back into Sebastian's arms instead. And that's where he stays because being held by Sebastian is better than miniature golf any day, even with one of his best friends. "It's less depressing."

"We're bonding," Sebastian explains. "I thought _you_ were the one who wanted us all to get to know one another better. That includes the good and the bad, babe."

"Yeah, but between my mom, your parents, and his dad, I'm going to start drinking before I get to college!"

Sebastian chuckles, hugging Kurt tighter since he knows the next words out of his mouth might get him a smack on the arm. "Those are strong words from a man who can't handle his sparkling cider."


	25. Decisions, Decisions

**Kurt and Sebastian spend an afternoon in Sebastian's bedroom trying to choose the perfect song for Kurt's short program. They're also making out while scrolling through selections. When things get a little far beyond agreed-upon borders, Kurt makes a decision that leaves Sebastian's head spinning.**

 _ **Notes:** **This one-shot is a nod back to 'Stickhandling', where Sebastian mentions picking out a song for Kurt's routine while making out on his bed. So this is that scene.**_

"Mmm … what about … what about this one?" Sebastian presses the skip button on the remote to his stereo, switching the song playing from Katy Perry's 'Wide Awake' to Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On' as he slides his hand up Kurt's track pant-clad leg.

"No!" Kurt exclaims hastily, grabbing Sebastian's hand back when his boyfriend mistakenly thinks that Kurt is scolding his wandering fingers. "I mean ( _kiss_ ) I don't object ( _kiss_ ) to performing ( _kiss_ ) to an older song ( _kiss_ ) but that song ( _kiss_ ) has been _so_ overdone."

"You're right, you're right," Sebastian agrees, slipping his fingertips along the inside of Kurt's waistband – not deep enough in to make him anxious, just to tease him a little, make him ponder the possibilities. "Well, then, what about …?" Sebastian hits the button again; 'Shake It Out' begins to play.

"That's … nice." Kurt's lips drift down Sebastian's cheek to his jaw while his mind wrestles with indecision. "I do like Florence and the Machine, but this one's a little too depressing for what I had in mind."

"Fair enough. Well, how about …?" Sebastian starts flipping through songs as Kurt's lips connect with his neck, but he drops the remote when Kurt starts to suck. Ten seconds later, Sebastian has no idea what song is playing. Who cares? The song they're choosing is for Kurt's long program, but they have over a month to get it ready. They'll figure it out. Right here, right now, all Sebastian wants to concentrate on is the touch of Kurt's lips against skin that no one but Kurt has ever kissed before, experimenting with bending rules and stretching boundaries; his silky tongue taking risks in an effort to turn Sebastian on. Sebastian's hands slide their way underneath Kurt's pants to cup his ass – over his briefs, as per their agreement, but Sebastian's not hating it. What's there to hate when he has the most talented, most graceful skater in all of Ohio laid out over him, rutting against an erection that Sebastian knows is going to ache like a motherfucker later on when it goes unspent?

But he wouldn't stop what they're doing for anything, and not just because having Kurt touch him and kiss him is the most amazing feeling in the world. Spending time with his boyfriend like this, connecting with him on this level - away from the ice rink, skate school classes, coaching, and rink politics – is something Sebastian never thought he'd get an opportunity to experience until he was out of Westerville and on his way to college. He'd burned so many bridges in his hometown, had built such a reputation for being a cold-hearted jerk, he never thought a single boy worthwhile would give him a chance.

And he never thought that, in the end, that boy would be Kurt.

The song changes again – once, maybe twice - and Kurt becomes bolder with every switch in rhythm. Sebastian holds on to Kurt's ass and lets his boyfriend set the pace. It's not as if Sebastian is any more experienced than Kurt. Here, as on the ice, they're pretty evenly matched. But Sebastian hasn't had to go through the bullying that Kurt has, the harassment that bordered on outright abuse. When it comes to what they do in the bedroom, they talk and talk, and then talk some more, but for the most part, Kurt runs the show, with the option for Sebastian to object if he becomes uncomfortable.

They've yet to reach that point.

But the climax of this particular show is hitting Sebastian fast as he lays back and lets Kurt roll over him like the tide. If he doesn't slow his boyfriend down, they may end up with a mess on their hands – _literally_.

Kurt mewls as Sebastian takes a chance and lifts the hem of his shirt, pulling the thick cotton over Kurt's smooth skin and strong back muscles.

 _I'll undress you, 'cause you're tired  
Cover you as you desire  
When you fall asleep inside my arms_

"Yes, mmm … yes, that's … God, yes! This … this is it!" Kurt squeals, hands raking across the bed, grabbing at the sheets in abandon. Inside Sebastian's brain, he jolts in surprise.

 _Now?_ he thinks, unsure exactly how he should proceed from here. _After all their discussion of waiting to have sex, Kurt picks now?_ It seems so anti-climatic knowing Kurt and his penchant for the dramatic. Sebastian had pictured Kurt choosing the perfect evening according to their astrological signs, on a night when Saturn and Venus are aligned. He saw them making love not in his bedroom, but in a luxury suite at the Hilton filled with roses and candles. They'd order up a bottle of champagne accompanied by a plate of strawberries and cream. Foreplay would be spent feeding each other, naked in bed, while Whitney Houston music played in the background.

That's totally more Kurt's style than tearing off their clothes and going at it in Sebastian's bedroom.

Kurt isn't the spontaneous type, but maybe Sebastian shouldn't be looking a gift horse in the mouth. He's dreamt of making love to Kurt more times than he can count on both hands. But regardless of his own surging hormones soaring off the charts, he's not quite sure _he's_ ready either.

What would Kurt do if Sebastian said _no_?

"You mean … now?" Sebastian gulps. "You wanna … you wanna have sex … _now_?"

"What!?" Kurt's eyes pop open to the size of boulders. He bolts up, leaping away so quickly, the fitted sheet snaps off the edge of the mattress and rolls towards them. "No! No, I …" Struggling to find the right words while blood fights to make its way back to his brain, he catches sight of Sebastian's expression – confused and nervous with an undercurrent of hurt. "Sorry! Sorry! I'm sorry!" He squirrels back into his boyfriend's embrace and wraps his arms around him before Sebastian can fully register everything going on. "No. No, I mean, the song. _This_ song. This is it!" Kurt raises the remote he grabbed while blindly searching the bed and hits the back button, starting the song over.

"Oh." Sebastian tightens his grip on Kurt while he tries to calm down, which proves to be mildly counterproductive. He has to readjust his ass a few times to accommodate his hard-on sandwiched beneath the waistband of his workout pants and his boyfriend's body. One wrong pivot causes him to wince in pain, but the friction only seems to make him harder.

 _Yup. This one's a motherfucker._

Sebastian relaxes into his pillow and counts backwards from ten while he listens to the lyrics of the song Kurt chose:

 _So baby tell me yes  
And I will give you everything  
So baby tell me yes  
And I will be all yours tonight_

"Lady Gaga?"

"Yup. I don't know why I didn't think of her before."

"Hmm." Sebastian definitely approves. Lady Gaga's music is the embodiment of everything Kurt stands for.

Though these particular lyrics aren't really helping Sebastian's situation at the moment.

"So? What do you think?" Kurt asks.

"No, yeah, this song's perfect." Sebastian switches positions again, and his erection, finally withering, brushes Kurt's thigh.

"Oh, God! I'm so sorry!" Kurt ducks his head as he recalls how close they'd come, and how completely and abruptly he put an end to it. "For leading you on, I mean. I shouldn't have gone so far. It's just … kissing you feels so good. And touching you? I know my own limits, but I … I get carried away."

"It's all right," Sebastian replies with a deep sigh. "You weren't leading me on. We've talked about this a zillion times. I knew what to expect. But … I know what you mean. You feel so good, sometimes it's hard to control myself."

"So … no hard feelings?" Kurt snickers. "No pun intended."

"No. No _hard_ feelings," Sebastian groans.

"Good. Come on, coach! Let's get a move on!" Kurt slides out of Sebastian's grasp and sprints off the bed.

"Where are we going?" Sebastian asks, sighing in relief at the pressure off his dick, but disappointed at the loss of his boyfriend's body.

"Down to your rink! I have a dozen ideas flooding my head. I want to get started on choreography right away."

"Oh," Sebastian mutters, watching his boyfriend grab his sweater and jacket with enthusiasm, floored by the speed in which he can switch gears from almost making Sebastian cum in his pants to business as usual – practice, practice, and more practice. In his current state, Sebastian can't move as quickly, which makes him a tad envious at how Kurt can manage.

Kurt is a boy for whom popping an untimely boner never seems to be a problem. The amount of control he has over his own body is amazing … and _hot_.

Kurt pulls his sweater over his head, then tosses Sebastian his, puzzled to find him still lying on his back on the bed.

"What's … what's wrong?"

"Well, I didn't think we were actually going to _do the deed_ ," Sebastian says, "but what we were doing was … nice."

"It was nice," Kurt admits, toying with the hem of his sweater. "It's just … I've been searching for the perfect song for this routine for over a week, and I …"

Sebastian blows out a frustrated breath and scoots to the end of the mattress, in far less agony now that things between them have cooled. "It's all right." He takes Kurt's hand, pulling him forward so he can kiss his knuckles. "Believe me, I understand."

"Maybe you can think of it as foreplay?" Kurt offers, hopeful that Sebastian won't eventually get tired of how many times he's stopped them short and called it quits. "Fuel for a make-out session later?"

Sebastian looks up from Kurt's hands, that familiar, slow-burning smirk of his spreading across his lips – the one that reminds Kurt of how hard Sebastian worked to get them to this point, how accommodating he's been, how chivalrous, how understanding. It's the same smirk Sebastian was wearing the first time Kurt stopped them. Sebastian had told him it was fine, that he was in this for the long haul. Kurt believed him then. He has no reason not to believe him now. "Let's do it."


	26. Kurt on Ice

**While doing their homework at Sebastian's house, Kurt receives a mysterious package ...**

 _ **A/N:** **I wrote this in honor of the fiftieth person who's asked me if my series was inspired by Yuri on Ice. Plus, I like these playful moments where the boys navigate their feelings together.**_

"Sign here, Mr. Smythe … and initial here …"

"Gotcha."

"And that's it. Thank you very much. Did you need help bringing that inside?"

"Nope. I think I've got it. Thanks anyway."

Kurt hears Sebastian politely dismiss the delivery man who interrupted their afternoon study session out of the blue – a major inconvenience since, this time, they actually _were_ studying, both hitting the books to prepare for huge tests in math. That didn't mean they didn't sneak the occasional kiss between quadratic formulas but, for the most part, they were keeping things _G_ for the sake of an _A_.

But a page of proofs were put on pause when the unexpected UPS truck pulled up out front of Sebastian's house.

Kurt looks over his shoulder when he hears Sebastian grunt, attempting to tilt the tall, rectangular box and drag it into the living room.

"That's a _big_ box," Kurt comments, too entertained by Sebastian's struggling to get up and help.

"Yup. And it's addressed to _you_." Sebastian taps a finger on the address label, pointing out Kurt's name.

"If it's for me, why did it come here?"

"Because _I'm_ your coach," Sebastian says proudly, happy that someone outside of their inner circle is finally acknowledging his role in Kurt's budding career. "And as such, potential sponsorships and endorsement deals go through _me_."

Kurt smirks, not sure whether that's completely true or not, but he doesn't call Sebastian out on it. He's way too adorable, acting all cocky over his job as Kurt's coach. No need to land any blows to his ego.

"So" – Kurt stands from the sofa, leaving his calculus homework on the coffee table – "what's in it?"

"Samples." Sebastian props the box against the arm of the sofa, then tears into the packing tape, at least three obnoxious layers of it keeping the box closed.

"Of _what_? This box is _way_ too big to be skates." Kurt looks for the address label right as Sebastian rips it, destroying any clue to the sender of the package. "Oh, you don't think it could be _hockey sticks_ , do you?"

"Nah." Sebastian chuckles at Kurt's under-enthused tone. As much as Kurt enjoys practicing with the team and expanding his skating skills, Sebastian knows that Kurt isn't as into hockey as he is. Even protected by over thirty pounds of goalie gear, he apparently has issues with pucks flying at his face. "It's from a company called 'Light in the Box'." Sebastian chuckles again, like he knows something that Kurt doesn't. It's become a habit of Sebastian's, from being more in the know in skating circles than Kurt, and Kurt doesn't like it.

"I've never heard of them."

"Well, they've heard of you. And from what _I_ know of them, if I'm correct, they've zeroed in on your … _particular_ style tastes."

"And, pray tell, what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Sebastian pulls the first of about eight costume bags from the box. He unzips the top and takes a peek before Kurt can sneak one. With a snort and a smile, he announces, "A-ha! I _thought_ so! Take a look at this!"

Sebastian undoes the zipper the rest of the way to reveal a black, satiny jumpsuit, covered in an over-abundance of Swarovski crystals and pearls. Thin silver chains run down the sides, swaying as Sebastian turns the costume over. Whoever designed it pulled out all the stops when it came to accessorizing, as there doesn't appear to be an undecorated inch of fabric left. But bedazzled to excess, that isn't the most notable part of the outfit.

It's the huge, V-shaped opening down the front, the gap at the neck running from nearly shoulder to shoulder, the point ending at the waist (Sebastian suspects _below_ the belly button).

Kurt gasps.

Sebastian snorts. "Now, _this_ is some _Yuri on Ice_ shit right here."

Kurt blinks at his boyfriend's remark. He takes a moment to turn his scowl of disgust away from the tacky costume to his slightly tackier boyfriend. "I didn't know you watched anime."

"I don't," Sebastian says, not sounding the least bit guilty as he holds the outfit out in front of him, trying to picture what it would look like clinging to his boyfriend's lithe and toned frame.

"Then how do you know about _Yuri on Ice_?"

"Everyone knows about _Yuri on Ice._ Duh. _"_ Sebastian rolls his eyes. "It's one of the reasons why we had so many teenage girls hacking up our ice in rental skates last summer. Everyone saw it and frickin' thought they could skate. Thank God they're all gone now."

Kurt reaches out a curious hand to finger the fabric and investigate the seams, judge its overall quality. It seems sturdy, constructed well for a sample – all of the hems finished, as if the designer made it a point to get Kurt's exact measurements instead of leaving them to be altered later on. The crystals on the cuffs appear affixed nice and tight. Overall, not too shabby.

But that doesn't mean he's wearing it.

"They _do_ know I'm still a teenager, right? And that this might be considered a _little_ obscene?"

"Pfft. This coming from a guy who wears his pants so tight, he doesn't need to see a proctologist. A doctor can just diagnose you from the stands."

"Ha-ha. At least _my_ outfits cover _everything,"_ Kurt snaps, his cheeks going hot. "Look! It doesn't have a net panel or _anything_ up front! I'd _freeze_ in that thing!"

"It definitely would be chilly wearing this out on the ice. Probably uncomfortable, too. We'd need to glue it to your skin."

"Exactly," Kurt agrees, happy that his boyfriend – his _coach_ – can see reason. But the way Sebastian focuses on the treacherous V-neck with long, slow sweeps of his eyes makes the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

"But …"

Kurt glares at Sebastian. What _but_? He can't _seriously_ be considering this!? Kurt doesn't need endorsements _that_ badly. "But …?"

"You'd still look pretty hot in it."

Kurt's eyes pop from Sebastian's face to the costume he's holding, and he snickers. He doesn't know whether to feel flattered by that remark or _filthy_.

Is it wrong that he feels a teeny bit of both, he wonders?

And that he kind of likes it?

"Well, the world's never going to see me in it, I'm afraid."

"I'm not talking about the world, Hummel …" Sebastian peeks past the shoulder of the costume with shy yet mischievous eyes - the eyes of a boy who spent so much time pulling Kurt's leg and making him miserable that navigating these intimate moments tends to intimidate him. "I'm talking about, you know, just me."

Kurt goes from bulging eyes to mouth agape. "Uh … you want me to _model_ it for you?"

"Among other things."

"What _other things_?"

"You don't like to make out in your _other_ outfits …"

Kurt lifts an eyebrow, trying to determine from the expression on Sebastian's face if he's really thinking what Kurt _thinks_ he's thinking.

"You could be Yuri …"

 _Yup. He is._

"What?" Sebastian says, nervous over his boyfriend's stunned silence.

"You want to roleplay an _anime_? You don't think that's a tad creepy?"

"It's not like it's Hello Kitty or Pokemon, alright?" Sebastian explains, his cheeks getting redder than Kurt's did. "That show is chock full of pole dancing, and n-naked hot tubbing …"

"You do realize that that would make us figure skaters roleplaying _as_ figure skaters?"

"It'll be skate-ception."

"You know, your pop culture references are frighteningly on point right now."

"So … is th-that … a no?"

Kurt takes a step towards his boyfriend melting in embarrassment behind the barely three yards of fabric hanging from an almost bent hanger. And as amusing as his impending humiliation is, Kurt can't leave him like this.

He can't torment Sebastian when all he's been doing, in a roundabout way, is calling Kurt _sexy_.

"Seeing as I make all my own costumes, it's not like I'll be heartbroken if anything happens to this one," he says, putting his hands on Sebastian's shoulders and kneading gently.

"True," Sebastian says, smiling at Kurt, embolden by his touch to continue where he left off.

"Plus, they _were_ kind enough to send it to me." Kurt leans closer, mouth fitting against Sebastian's in the space between their breaths. "I should see how it fits, how it wears, how it … holds up under stress …"

"It _would_ be nice of you to review their product," Sebastian agrees, following Kurt's lips as they tease his own, "from one professional costume designer to another."

Kurt inches even closer, sliding his body against his boyfriend's, feeling how hard he's become through his baggy jeans and the slip of a costume sandwiched between them.

"You know, we might not even need to put me in this clown suit to get things rolling. Hmm? All things considered …" He punctuates those words with an upward thrust into Sebastian's crotch.

Sebastian looks deep into his boyfriend's eyes, startlingly blue the more he gets turned on; plump lips parted, his breath hot against Sebastian's mouth, so close, so tempting. Sebastian licks his lips, the tip of his tongue grazing Kurt's chin, and nods. "Yes. Yes, we do." He grabs Kurt's hand and, costume draped over his arm, pulls Kurt towards the staircase that leads to the upper level of the house and his bedroom.

"Sebastian …"

"After all, we want to give them an honest review."

" _Sebastian_ …"

"You wouldn't want to lie to your fans, would you?"

"Sebastian!"

"Do it for the fans, Kurt! The fans!"


	27. Date Night

**Date night sounds like it should be fun and romantic. But at the Westerville Ice-plex, it's anything but.**

 _ **Notes:** **As with most everything I've written, this comes from personal experience. If anyone's ever been to a "date night" or "teens and older night" at a skating rink, you might feel the same as Kurt xD**_

 _Bang_!

"Ah!"

 _Bang-whomp!_

"No! No, no! Get away!"

 _Bang-bang-OOF!_

"Ah! No, no, NO! _God_ , I hate this!"

"Why?" Sebastian chuckles, sliding out of the way of two men goofing off, wrestling one another full force into the ice at the far end. "It's just skating. Same as we do every other day."

"No! No, it's not!" Kurt snaps, swiveling from the path of two giggling teenage girls, both too occupied with making eyes at _his_ boyfriend to concentrate on where they're going. The first, with orange streaked hair and far too many facial piercings for Kurt's taste, catches her toe pick in a divot in the ice and goes straight down on her knees, taking her petite, platinum-blonde friend with her. "It's not the same because … because … these people are _crazy_!"

Sebastian joins his boyfriend, skating up to his side and looping an arm into his, subtly indicating to the young ladies taking their sweet time getting up that he not only doesn't play for their team, but he's taken. "That's what you said about hockey, and you play that."

A burly boy in a black, Western-style shirt and acid wash jeans, attempting to do some sort of spin-jump combination, slams into the hockey box hard enough to make Kurt leap into his boyfriend's arms.

"Yeah, but we pad up in hockey. If any of these Neanderthals showing off takes a wrong turn and crashes into me, I'm out for the season!"

"True." Sebastian maneuvers Kurt quickly to the side again as two different guys, paying no attention to anyone or anything, barrel towards them. "But you knew what you signed up for."

" _Technically_ I'm here because of _you_ , so this is your – _Bang_! Ah! Frick! - your fault!"

"Aw!" Sebastian tilts his head and cartoonishly bats his eyes. "You _are_? That's so sweet!"

"Ugh!" Kurt scoffs, shoving his infuriating boyfriend away. But Sebastian is sticky. He gives Kurt his space, but he doesn't go too far. "Oh, for heaven's sake! Dry up!"

"Dry up?" Sebastian snickers, scrunching his face. "Who even _says_ that anymore?"

Kurt doesn't respond. He simply glares as he dodges an eighth grader in hockey skates zooming towards him like a runaway freight train.

"As junior coaches, we have to do date night duty at least once a month," Sebastian points out. "You know that."

"Correction - you had the choice between date night duty and sharpening skates. You _chose_ date night. Honestly, I would have rather sharpened skates, but you made me promise we'd stick together. So, here I am, in hell, with _you_ , thank you very much!"

"You'd really rather sharpen skates?"

"Yes! Of course, I would! It would have kept us out of the path of – _Ah!_ \- speeding idiots!" Kurt glances away for a second to avoid an impending impact. When he looks back, Sebastian seems stunned by his previous remark. "What? Why do you look so surprised?"

"I dunno. You just don't strike me as the heavy machinery type."

Kurt folds his arms over his chest with such ferocity, Sebastian feels like he's been repelled back a foot. "I work in my dad's auto shop. You know, tire rotations, oil changes - the whole bit. Lots of heavy machinery there."

"Right, right. I forgot," Sebastian says, bobbing his head. "Okay, but isn't this a little more romantic than being stuck behind the rental counter with rows and rows of smelly skates?"

"No! Because I don't think risking life and limb is _romantic_ , even if we _are_ doing it together."

"But the music's bumpin' …" Sebastian takes a chance and moves back into Kurt's space "… the lights are low …"

"A-ha, and that just increases the chance of death!"

Sebastian stops an inch away from taking Kurt in his embrace and sighs.

"I'm … I'm sorry I stuck you with a job you hate. I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable or anything. I just … I honestly thought this would be romantic." Behind him, the two men wrestling run smack into the wall and plummet to the ice. "At any rate, I didn't think it would be _this_ bad."

"I know." Kurt closes the gap between them and snakes his arms around his boyfriend's waist. "I don't hold it against you.

Sebastian looks at his handsome boyfriend, dressed in tight indigo jeans, a crisp, burgundy shirt, and a blue staff jacket to match his own, snuggling into his arms. They feel safe displaying affection here, in their dim corner, inside the rink that's as much home to them as their own houses. "You … you dressed up."

"Well, yeah, silly. I mean, you made a bad choice, but you're still my boyfriend. And this _is_ date night. I wanted to look nice."

"You did a good job," Sebastian says, sneaking a sniff of Kurt's hair and his delectable jasmine-scented shampoo.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry, too." Kurt slides a hand up to Sebastian's neck, scratching lightly at the nape. "I didn't mean to snap. This just stresses me the hell out."

"That's understandable. This isn't really in my comfort zone either. You think it would be, but you're right. These dorks are insane. I'd feel better padded up. I don't want a broken leg any more than you do."

"I appreciate you saying that." Kurt sighs, melting a bit more into his boyfriend's embrace. "I'll try my best to relax and have fun …" The sound of the boards shaking from another collision makes Kurt squeeze Sebastian tighter. "As long as I'm with you," he amends. "But next time, we sharpen skates. Deal?"

"Deal."

Behind him, Kurt hears an ominous scraping, like the sound of knives on glass, followed by a snuffle and a grunt. He looks down to see a hand rise up his way, searching for a limb to grab on to for support. Kurt pivots on his blades, pulling himself and his boyfriend out of reach. The hand closes on air, but Kurt moves them a bit further, just to make sure they're in no danger.

"Hey!" the owner of the hand – one of three young men who had fallen in a heap – complains. "I need help here!"

"What you _need_ is skating lessons," Kurt says. "But if you want helpgetting up, grab a ledge."

"Don't you work here? Aren't they paying you to help me?"

"Not enough. Now shoo." Kurt waves the man away and turns his back on him.

The pile of young men stare at Kurt with blank faces, but after a long, awkward pause, they climb unsteadily to their feet and exit the ice, mumbling, "Whatever," and other less pleasant commentary under their breaths. Kurt brushes off his hands, then slides back into the warmth and safety of his boyfriend's arms.

"Don't you think that was a little harsh, babe?" Sebastian asks, highly amused.

"Hey. I promised I'd relax around _you_. I didn't extend that invitation to anyone else. And besides, this happens to be a new shirt."

Sebastian hooks his chin over Kurt's shoulder. He watches the disgruntled men leave, quietly wishing them _good riddance_. "Makes sense."


	28. Cruising Main Street

**After a huge snow storm, Sebastian takes advantage of the vacant, iced-over roads to go skating down Main Street with his boyfriend.**

 _ **Notes: This one-shot gives you more clues to the main story line ... which will go up. I promise xD**_

"This is crazy! This is crazy! This is crazy!" Kurt chants through anxiously chattering teeth as Sebastian pulls the SUV in front of CVS and parks.

"It's not _that_ crazy." Sebastian turns the tires towards the curb and engages the emergency brake, but he doesn't kill the engine to keep the heater running.

"We're going to get in trouble," Kurt laments, climbing over the center console and into the back seat.

"I'm not sure this is actually illegal," Sebastian says, following his boyfriend.

Kurt folds his arms across his chest as Sebastian leans over his lap to untie his boots. "You stole your uncle's SUV."

" _Borrowed_ ," Sebastian stresses, setting Kurt's boot aside and replacing it with a hockey skate. "I _borrowed_ it. I have my learner's permit. Plus I'm an _excellent_ driver."

"I think I know two jack rabbits and a squirrel that might disagree with you," Kurt mentions as Sebastian removes his other boot.

"Hey! That wasn't my fault. The roads are slippery. I lost traction." Sebastian tugs up Kurt's socks, tucking his pant legs inside. "Besides, you'd think they'd know to get the hell outta the way of a moving vehicle."

"Speaking of which, we're going to get hit by a car."

"No, we're not. No one's out here, babe." Sebastian stops fiddling with Kurt's socks to wipe down a fogged up window and take a look around. Beneath the orange glow of the street lamps, both boys can see nothing but snow. No cars. No people. Just a veil of flakes drifting down from the sky, pushed into swirls by the frigid wind. "It's three in the morning after one of the worst storms we've had in years. You'd have to be _insane_ to be out here."

"My thoughts exactly," Kurt mutters. "We're going to hit soft spots."

"I don't know. It's still comin' down pretty good. I really don't think we'll find too many." Sebastian squints to see past the rapidly reforming fog and assess the thickness of the ice covering the asphalt. "If we steer clear of the manhole covers, we should be fine. But that's why I brought my beat-up old Bauers. So you don't nick your expensive competition blades."

"It's not my blades I'm worried about."

Sebastian turns away from the window steadily re-clouding from the heat inside the vehicle and throws Kurt a pointed look. Kurt rolls his eyes.

"Okay, yeah, I am, but right now, I'm more worried about my head."

"I brought helmets if you want." Sebastian grabs one off the seat behind him – a bright red snowboarding helmet he keeps with his hockey gear for just such an occasion - and holds it up. Kurt considers it, weighing the pros and cons of stuffing it on his head over his wool hat for the safety of his noggin against _why he's even considering doing this at all_!?

"Maybe …" He peeks past Sebastian's shoulder to get a glimpse out the window. "But what I want to know is why is this even necessary?"

Sebastian smirks. "To keep your brain from getting scrambled. Duh!" He puts the helmet down and returns to the task of getting skates on Kurt's feet.

"No. I mean, why is skating down Main Street _necessary_?"

"Because it's fun! Come on! Live a little!" Sebastian slides Kurt's reluctant left foot into its skate. "I can't _believe_ you've never done this before!"

"Well, believe it, buddy. My parents and I aren't super big fans of needlessly putting our lives in danger."

"Me and the guys from Elite used to do this all the time." Sebastian tightens Kurt's laces. "Right down Main Street after every snow storm."

"Do you … do you think we'll run into them out here?"

"Nah. Doesn't matter if we do anyhow. We'll keep our distance." Sebastian goes silent. Kurt watches him. He's effortlessly tying Kurt's skates the way Kurt likes them – loose through the length of his foot and tight at his ankles – but his mind is definitely somewhere else.

"Do you miss it?" Kurt swallows hard, not entirely sure what answer he's hoping to hear. "Do you miss _them_?"

Sebastian finishes the knot on Kurt's right skate, then rests his palm on the toe cap with a heavy sigh. "Yeah," he admits, moving on to the left skate. "Sometimes. I mean, we were all sold on that whole _band of brothers_ mentality. And we _were_ brothers … sort of. We grew up together. We did everything together. They were my best friends all through elementary school, and middle school ..."

"But you gave them up … for _me_ ," Kurt says quietly.

"For me, too. I gave them up so I could be a better person, have someone worthwhile in my life who actually cares about _me_ , not what they could get by knowing me." Sebastian finishes tying Kurt's skates and sits up, coming face to face with his highly skeptical boyfriend. "You don't look like you believe me."

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, lowering his gaze to the dingy, striped-white laces on his borrowed skates. "It's just not always easy to believe that being with me is better than being with your old friends. You guys always seemed so close. I rarely ever saw you apart. You seemed like you said – brothers. That must have been hard to give up."

"Well, as it turned out, my old friends were humongous _jerks_ ," Sebastian says, spitting out the word _jerks_. "I mean, if they cared about me at all, they'd be here right now, wouldn't they? They would have mended fences and all that shit? Accepted the fact that you're in my life, and things are different now?"

"I … I guess," Kurt says, folding his hands in his lap and idly pushing at his cuticles. Sebastian slides in close and wraps his arms around him.

"But _you're_ here," Sebastian whispers. "Even after all of it, you stayed. So yeah, you _are_ better. _So_ much better." He leans his forehead against the soft ribbing of Kurt's knitted cap and lays delicate, barely-there kisses against his cheek. It's hard for Kurt to understand, Sebastian knows. Kurt has had to sacrifice so much for his friends, distance himself from them so that they wouldn't become targets for the same bullying he endured, but aside from his parents, he's never had anyone return the favor. He doesn't get that quality matters to Sebastian, not quantity. Perhaps that's Sebastian's own fault considering how overindulged he is, how often he had flaunted it while cutting Kurt down. "You know, if you don't want to go skating, that's fine. I know it's kind of risky. We can go back home and hang out. Make hot cocoa or something."

"The biggest risk I've taken is sitting right here in this SUV with me, and it's worked out so far. I don't mind taking another one. Just … try not to let me die? If at all possible. I'd really appreciate it."

"All you have to do is hold on tight," Sebastian says, closing in slowly on Kurt's mouth. "I promise, I won't let anything happen to you."


	29. Show Stealer

**Kurt is trying to show his family and friends his Cornell admissions video, but someone keeps snagging his spotlight.**

 _ **Notes: So this comes some time after Blaine moves in with Sebastian and before Kurt gets into Cornell. It's inspired by all of the videos we watch of people skating on YouTube, that they film themselves at their rinks, and the unfortunate people stuck in the background. I know that I'm in the background of a few videos, and I often wonder - how was my hair? Did I look fat? Was I doing something stupid? XD**_

"Kurt? Are you okay in there, honey?" Elizabeth calls, anxiously waiting on the sofa beside her husband, with Sebastian and Blaine occupying the arm chairs, all eager for Kurt to give them the 'big presentation' he's gathered them together for.

"Yeah, babe! We've been sittin' here for _fifteen minutes_! I've already finished my bowl of popcorn!"

"Okay, okay! I'm coming!" Kurt emerges from the kitchen, sashaying into the living room with a bottle of sparkling cider and four plastic flutes in hand. "Thank you for your patience," he says, doling out the glasses. "And without further ado ..."

Burt takes the bottle from Kurt to help open and pour. "Without further ado _what_ exactly?"

His hands free, Kurt digs into his back pocket and pulls out a flash drive. "I present to you - my Cornell admissions video!"

"Oh! This is so exciting!" Elizabeth squeals, barely holding still enough for Burt to fill her glass. "My baby's applying to college!"

"It's just a technicality," Sebastian assures her. "There's no way Cornell isn't going to accept the most talented figure skater in America, especially with the GPA he's packing."

"But how did you get it done so quickly?" Blaine asks as Kurt plugs the drive into the Blu-ray player. "Didn't you just start making it yesterday morning?"

"It's not complete. This is the main body of my video – me showing off my skills. I still have to film an introduction. Plus, I want to include clips of me coaching, a tour of the trophy case at the rink, that sort of thing …"

"I told you, you should hire a professional videographer." Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt's hip and pulls his boyfriend onto his lap. "I know a guy. He can record you skating down at my rink where it's _private_ , where he can control the sound and the lighting, splice in some footage of you competing, a montage of you receiving your medals …"

"But doesn't that seem like overkill?" Kurt argues while he fiddles with the Blu-ray remote, preparing to press _play_. "I mean, I've already made a name for myself in this sport. Do I want to toot my own horn _that_ loudly?"

"Yes!" Sebastian and Blaine agree in unison.

"I want to keep things _simple,"_ Kurt continues, undeterred. "I don't want to stand out because of my previous accomplishments. I mean, we all know that some judges are biased. I want my skating to speak for itself, and the best way for me to do that is to make a video that's the same quality as everyone else's is going to be."

"But you're not everyone else," Sebastian says, putting an arm around Kurt's waist and squeezing. "You're _Kurt Hummel_ , National Champion and Olympic hopeful. You've earned the right to go to any school in the country that has a skating program that meets _your_ criteria, not the other way around."

"Well, in this case, my criteria is _go to the same school as my boyfriend_."

"I think Sebastian's right," Blaine says, earning him a wink from Sebastian and a roll of Kurt's eyes. "Presentation is everything in figure skating, and the competition to get into Ivy League schools is stiff, even for someone with your impressive athletic background. A professionally produced video might seem like overkill to you, but it could be the thing that edges you one step ahead of another equally impressive applicant."

"Blaine's right, kiddo," Burt says. "Never doubt the power of a good first impression."

"Also," Elizabeth chimes in, "not having a professionally produced video might make you appear cocky, as if you think you don't need to pull out all the stops you're capable of in order to get in."

"Wha-?" Kurt stares at his friends and family, so nonchalantly bursting the bubble he'd been happily floating around in since he'd finished editing. "Y-you guys haven't even _seen_ my video yet, and you're already telling me it's not good enough to get me into Cornell!"

A collective sigh of guilt passes around the room. Sebastian whispers, "I'm sorry," into Kurt's back, accompanied by a trail of gentle kisses.

"I'm sorry, too, kiddo."

"Me, three, Kurt."

"You're right," Elizabeth says, reaching over to put an apologetic hand on her son's knee. "Turn on the video. Let's take a look at what you've got."

"Okay," Kurt says, a spark of excitement springing back up in his stomach. "So, I recorded this on my phone down at the Ice-plex. It highlights my upper level elements – double and triple Axel, loop, Lutz, Salchow, my original footwork, and my spin combinations."

"What? No quads?" Sebastian teases.

"There may be one or two in there," Kurt hints, peeking over his shoulder to wink at his boyfriend. "I'm not sayin'."

"Oh my goodness! Who's that little sweetheart in the background?" Elizabeth asks, pointing to the screen. Both Blaine and Burt _aww_ with her before Kurt has the chance to turn around.

"I don't know." Kurt shrugs. "Just some kid who showed up early with his mom. I don't think I've ever met them before."

"He reminds me of you when you started out," Burt says with a sentimental click of his tongue. "Look at those tiny Riedell skates!"

"He even looks like you!" Blaine says. "Look at those swooped-up bangs! And that stubborn little chin!"

"Yeah, yeah, he's adorable," Kurt grumbles, wishing he could skip past this section infected by that show stealer in a baby blue puff coat. He makes a mental note to go back through his video later and edit him out if he can. "Can we focus on _me_? I'm about to perform my triple Axel-triple loop combination. It only took me one try to get it the way I wanted it."

"Okay, okay!" his mother says, but leans in to her husband's ear to coo about the wobbly attempt at a scratch spin the little boy makes before the video cuts to the next scene.

Jump after spin after spin after jump is met with polite and appreciative _ooo_ 'ing and _ahh_ 'ing for Kurt, but increasingly more comments about the boy in the background. Remarks about how cute he looks in his shiny black skates top the charts; followed by commentary on his fashion sense (at one point, he unzips his coat to reveal a dark blue cardigan sweater and a red-and-white polka dot bowtie, which, again, draw more comparisons between the little skater and a young Kurt); and then on his determination and burgeoning skating skill.

But none of his antics, no matter how charming, win Kurt over. The miniature heathen's attempt at a camel spin completely detracts attention away from Kurt's perfectly executed quad loop!

How did Kurt not notice this interloper in the background the first time around? He probably did, but just ignored him – THE WAY EVERYONE ELSE SHOULD BE DOING!

"Okay, guys! Watch this! This is my grand finale quad-triple-triple combination!" Kurt spills the beans even though he'd intended on keeping the details secret, in the hopes of winning back the favor of his fickle audience.

For the first time since they started watching Kurt's video, a hush falls across the living room, all eyes remaining glued to the screen and (Kurt hopes) his upcoming feat. He'd had to push back pretty far to get the whole combo in from the angle he was filming, but it came out better than he'd hoped, all three jumps – quad Salchow, triple toe loop, triple loop – captured in frame.

"Aw!" the group exclaims in unison as Kurt's blade hits the ice for the final time. Sebastian flinches. Burt grimaces. Blaine hisses. Elizabeth gasps.

"What?" Kurt looks at their faces, each one marred with an expression of pain. "What's wrong!? That was perfect! _Picture_ perfect!" Kurt says, gesturing emphatically to the screen where the combination plays again, this time in slow motion.

"No, sweetie. Not that. Your jump was amazing. But the little boy. He fell. See?" Elizabeth says sadly. She grasps her husband's hand, overwhelmed by the memories of a younger, less experienced Kurt's falls, the times he landed on his rear when he should have landed on an edge. His watery eyes, his wails of pain, embarrassment, and disappointment, his mother rushing to his side to make sure he was okay.

Kurt turns back to the screen, peering past his own image to see the boy sitting on his backside on the ice, bawling his eyes out, while his mom takes a knee to give him a hug.

"Didn't you go _help_ him?" Elizabeth asks.

"No," Kurt says, mildly offended. "Why should I? His mom was there! He was fine!"

"But he fell trying to do the jump you were doing!" his mother points out.

" _And_ you're a junior coach," his dad adds. "Your job is to help skaters at the rink. You should have at least made sure he was okay."

"I don't _believe_ this!" Kurt says, throwing up his hands. His mother reaches over Kurt's knee and snatches the Blu-ray remote. She rewinds the video to replay the poor boy's fall, presumably to make sure that things turned out okay in the end. Everyone gasps when - beyond the spectacle of Kurt's own epic landing and impeccable form - the little boy, with eyes on Kurt, sets up to leap into the air, teeters too far backwards, and plops down on his rear. His lower lip trembles, then he drops his head back and sobs. Kurt sighs. He knows when he's been bested.

In this case, theoretically, he just lost his spot at Cornell to a four-year-old boy in a bowtie and a puff coat.

"Sebastian, go call your friend," Kurt says, standing from his boyfriend's lap. "And grab your coat."

"Why?" Sebastian asks, not taking his eyes off the boy on the screen. He beams when the boy succeeds, through tears, to land a modest Waltz Jump, and cheers along with Elizabeth, Burt, and Blaine when he repeats it two times in a row. Kurt grabs Sebastian's hand and drags him off the chair.

"We're going to drive down to your rink and do some horn tooting."

"Kurt!" Sebastian scolds, following his boyfriend to the front door. "You shouldn't say things like that in front of your parents!"

Kurt stops a foot from the doorway, confused, but scowls when he figures it out.

"Sebastian! That's not what I meant!"


	30. Not It

**Now that Blaine is living at Sebastian's house, he decides to become a member of Westerville Ice-plex's junior coaching team. On his first day as a coach, he discovers he has a lot to learn.**

"Well, well, well … look who we have here?"

Their conversation interrupted by that remark, Kurt turns away from his boyfriend and in the direction Sebastian's looking to see what's suddenly grabbed his attention. Kurt smiles immediately when Blaine swivels to a stop beside him, dressed in a puffy, bright blue, ankle length, Westerville Ice-plex coach's coat, so new that it still smells like the plastic it was packaged in.

"Hey!" Kurt greets him with open arms and a big hug, then proceeds to skate a slow circle around his friend, appraising him up and down. "Wow! You look pretty snazzy in your new coat!"

"Do I?" Blaine blushes at Kurt's praise as he self-consciously tugs at the seams. His new coat fits him the way that style of coat fits the rest of the coaches, regardless of body type – like a cone, cinched at the neck, becoming gradually larger on the way down, then flared out at the hem, which is why most of the coach's dress in layers and keep their coats unzipped.

Blaine has yet to get that memo. With his head peeking out above the collar and his arms hanging at his sides, he looks like a toddler wearing his first ever snowsuit. Kurt pictures him falling on his back, then flailing back and forth on the ice like a flipped turtle, unable to get back to his feet again without help. He bites his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud.

"Absolutely." Kurt subtly helps him out by pulling down the zip half way, then giving him a wink so he doesn't feel embarrassed for not knowing. "In fact, I think Sebastian may have some competition now with you around."

"Competition?" Blaine peeks over Kurt's shoulder in time to see Sebastian roll his eyes.

"For the coach that the pre-teen girls will fight tooth and nail to impress," Chandler explains, tickled pink at having this opportunity to send a few subtle jabs in Sebastian's direction.

"Yup," Kurt agrees, if for no other reason than to re-direct his boyfriend's laser eyes away from his giggling friend. "I predict you're going to have your fill of nine- to sixteen-year-olds _begging_ you to help them with their Chinese spirals."

"You … you make that sound kind of dirty," Blaine says as Kurt finishes adjusting his collar, finally succeeding in flattening a corner that was reluctant to do anything but curl into Blaine's cheek.

Creeping up behind his boyfriend, Sebastian smirks. "Just wait."

"Okay, guys!" Jane skates their way, holding a clipboard in her hands high for everyone to see. "We've got three workshops this morning, but since I know you've all only got one on your minds this morning, we'll get that one out of the way …"

"Not it!" Kurt says before she's even finished, putting his finger on his nose. Blaine's eyebrows shoot straight up, not necessarily at the comment, or the fact that Kurt so emphatically barked it in his face, but at the gesture, the tip of his index finger resting on the bridge of his nose, apparently meant to solidify his stance over whatever _it_ is.

"Not it!" Sebastian follows.

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"Not it!"

"And that means you're _it_ , new guy," Jane announces, bumping Blaine with her hip. "My condolences." Blaine looks at the other coaches in front of him with their fingers on their noses to indicate that, whatever is going on, they are not _it_ – Jane (whom he'd just met a few weeks ago, but whose wit and humor he was quickly becoming fond of), Mason (the twin brother of one of the ice dancing coaches, the pair of them so optimistic and plucky all of the time, Blaine is convinced they have to be cheerleaders), Chandler (who, as far as Blaine can tell, is Sebastian's arch-nemesis), Kurt, and Sebastian – with a confused and (frankly) frightened look in contrast to the grins on their faces. He feels a little bit like a lamb surrounded by wolves, ripe for the slaughter.

"Wh-what do you mean – I'm _it_?" Blaine asks, looking to his best friend for help in this situation.

"You, my lucky friend, are going to be teaching _Moves in the Field_ today," Jane explains. "Novice six thru twelve."

"Oh!" Blaine sighs in relief. "Well, that sounds like fun. What are they working on?"

"Twizzles," Kurt says, looking mildly guilty.

"Pft!" Blaine says with a wave of his hand. "Those are easy! You guys had me worried for a second!"

"A-ha. Do you remember when _you_ started learning Twizzles?" Sebastian asks, wrapping his arms around Kurt and hugging him from behind.

"Yeah!" Blaine laughs thinking back on it. "Oh God! I got so nauseous, I almost ralphed! Oh, I remember this one kid in my class actually did …" Blaine stops, his eyes going wide. "Oh ..."

"Uh, yeah." Sebastian takes the clipboard from Jane and holds it so that Kurt can sign them up for their respective workshops.

"Don't let them scare you, Blaine. It's not _that bad_ ," Chandler says, patting Blaine on the shoulder as he reaches for the clipboard. "You have a 50/50 chance that no one's going to actually lose their lunch."

"Though, there are about twenty-five kids signed up for that workshop this time," Mason mentions. " _And_ it's after lunch. The odds are someone's going to toss their pizza."

"Just keep your eyes peeled for the telltale signs," Jane suggests.

"Hand over mouth," Sebastian says.

"Lips clamped shut and face turning green," Kurt adds.

"Shifty eyes," Chandler says, giving a brief demonstration. "If you notice any of that, keep your distance and you should be fine. Oh, and grab a towel."

"For … for what?" Blaine asks, watching the coaches disperse, heading off to their respective areas of the rink.

"For the ice," Mason calls over his shoulder. "If someone pukes, you're gonna have to clean it up."

"Eww!"

"Oh, and Blainers?"

"Yeah?" Blaine turns to Sebastian standing beside him with a mixture of pity and amusement curling the corners of his mouth.

"Lesson number one on the way things work around here - the next time someone yells _not it_ , don't wait for an explanation. Just say _not it_."


	31. Christmas Under the Sea

**Kurt and Sebastian are participating in the grand Christmas tradition called 'the Christmas pageant'.**

 **This year, Kurt gets to play the part of the illustrious co-producer.**

 **But Sebastian's role this time around isn't as glamorous.**

"I feel stupid."

Kurt looks over at his miserable, grumbling boyfriend, only his face visible from within the massive felt torso of his equally massive felt costume, the head of which sits perched about a foot above his own. Waiting for his turn on the ice, he stands a little off to the left of the doorway so that the audience sitting in the bleachers won't see him. Though how they _can't_ , Sebastian doesn't know. He's bright ass white, and about the same height as those obnoxious noodle things car lots use to attract customers. Kurt, standing beside him, is performing double-duty – monitoring his group of kids currently skating, but also ready to help Sebastian squeeze his girth through the rectangular space that'll spit him out onto the ice. "Just … mammoth levels of dorkdom."

"You look _adorable_!" Kurt reassures him, biting his cheek hard to keep from laughing. But from his wobbly voice to his occasional suspicious throat clearing, he's not hiding anything from Sebastian.

"I don't care if I look _adorable_. I have an itch between my shoulder blades I can't reach, I'm sweating like a pig, and I can't see my feet."

"You sound pregnant." Kurt chuckles, rubbing his boyfriend's back as best he can to try and help him with _one_ of his problems at least. Sebastian leans back against Kurt's fingers, squirming in frustration to help him find the right spot. Kurt eventually stumbles upon it, but just barely. Sebastian sighs, but not out of relief.

"I don't want to be here."

"You _have_ to be here. We both do," Kurt says, trying to sound sympathetic. But considering the amount of times he's been suckered into an unimportant, secondary role, or forced to be a prop so that a more popular kid could play the star, he finds it a little difficult to pull off. "As junior coaches, we have to support our kids. Don't you want your students to know that you're rooting for them?"

"I could have rooted for them while handing out fliers," Sebastian complains, knowing that answering Kurt in the affirmative will seem like acquiescence, even though that's pretty much what he's doing. Even if he was adamant that, under no circumstances, was he going out on the ice dressed like a giant snowman, there's no backing out of this now – not without him looking like a douche.

Of course, there was still a chance he might break an ankle or an arm. This seven-foot monstrosity he's locked inside is top-heavy, and incredible unpredictable. It wouldn't take much to upend it, putting too much weight on a limb.

But semi-finals are coming up, and he's not _that_ desperate.

Besides, he's not entirely convinced that Kurt wouldn't just shove him out on the ice _with_ a broken limb. It's not like Sebastian's routine is incredibly difficult. There are no complicated jumps, no intricate footwork, none of the fancy moves he's known for. For the most part, he lumbers around the ice, toppling back and forth for laughs.

If he fell on his face and stayed there, struggling to get up, that would probably work, too. The other skaters could just spiral around him.

"I could have brought brownies and rooted for them. Or helped the boys with their quick changes. Why do I have to be the _damn snowman_?"

"Because you're the only one here who fits the costume."

Sebastian side-eyes Kurt, but with his head encased inside a stiff, unforgiving spheroid, he has to shift his whole body to do it. The sound of it, accompanied by the abrupt wobble of his chubby body, almost brings Kurt to tears.

"You and I are the same height, _Hummel_ , so I know for a _fact_ that you fit in this costume, too."

"What can I say?" Kurt surveys the ice, doing his hardest not to look directly at his seething boyfriend lest he lose what's left of his self-control. "They needed my help with the junior production team. Apparently, I have a way with the under six-year-olds. They listen to me." He tosses his head from side to side, mimicking a sassy hair flip – a habit Kurt inherited from his mother, Sebastian has noticed. "Besides, it was _your_ name on the sign-up sheet."

"In _your_ handwriting!" Sebastian hisses through clenched teeth in an attempt to be heard without screaming over the music.

Kurt shakes his head stoically, but he can't stop the smile fighting its way onto his face. "You can't prove a thing."

"Why is there a snowman in this performance anyway? We're doing _Christmas Under the Sea_! How in the heck is there a snowman _under the sea_?"

"It's a Christmas pageant, for corn's sake! Suspend disbelief for one hour, will you please?"

"Nope. I refuse. Not when I'm stuck playing Frosty and Blaine frickin' Anderson gets to be Prince Eric."

From the center of the ice, Blaine emerges from the midst of Kurt's cluster of spiraling angel fish and glides into view. With the brightest smile ever beaming from his face, he sets up and performs an effortless triple Axel – his signature move – to a round of cheering and clapping.

"Now, now. Poor Blaine has already spent many a tragic summer sweating inside of costumes at theme parks all over Ohio because his parents thought a part time job would help him build _character_." Kurt sneers. Blaine is an awesome guy – polite and compassionate, a straight-A student, a talented skater, and a genuine friend. Whatever character his parents thought he lacked is lost on Kurt. "I didn't want to stick him in another one. I didn't know if it would give him flashbacks or something." Kurt sticks his clipboard under his arm after Blaine performs a triple flip so that he can join in on the applause.

Sebastian can't applaud. Trapped inside his costume, his arms are effectively glued to his sides.

Not that he had any intention of clapping anyway.

"Besides, Blaine _looks_ like Prince Eric."

"Wha- and _I_ look like a _snowman_?"

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Whatevs." Sebastian rotates as far as he can to the left, taking small, carefully calculated steps so that he doesn't tip over. He spins slowly until he can still see the ice without having to see an inch of his boyfriend's smirking face, which is just as well since the shuffling dance he just performed has close to ended Kurt. "I blame _you_ for this, you know."

"That's fine, if that makes you feel better. But if it's any consolation, you'll always be a prince to me." Kurt winds an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders (he thinks – he can't tell) and gives him a squeeze. He suspects Sebastian doesn't actually _feel_ it, but it's the thought that counts.

Sebastian _can't_ feel Kurt, but he knows his arm is there by the sound of his jacket sleeve sliding over the flocking on his costume. He's close to forgiving his boyfriend for tricking him into this uncomfortable and humiliating situation. He really is. He knows that Kurt was in a bind. He'd been appointed co-producer of this year's Christmas pageant when, normally, he'd just be performing in it. Kurt tried for weeks to fill this God-awful snowman's shoes, but no one wanted to be the snowman

Absolutely no one.

Kurt bribed, cajoled, he may have even blackmailed, but no dice. If worst came to worst, Kurt would have donned the snowman costume himself, but it would have made his job that much harder. Kurt could have asked Sebastian outright, but they both know Sebastian would have given him shit about it before finally saying _yes_. So, in that case, what Kurt did by putting Sebastian's name on the sign-up sheet behind his back is justified. He's about to shimmy back around and say so, but he peeks through the glass just in time to see Blaine in his billowy, white satin shirt, his mock-denim pants, and his pirate-style boot covers soar through the spotlight doing a perfect spread eagle.

Everyone claps.

Not a single person laughs.

Because Blaine is playing the handsome and fearless hero, and no one laughs at the hero.

Not like Sebastian, who'll get plenty of laughs the second he waddles onto the ice.

Because Sebastian is a giant snow beast.

"Nope," he says, grumpily wiggling his way out of Kurt's arm. "Not at all right now."


	32. A Line in the Sand

**Just because Sebastian is Kurt's boyfriend now doesn't mean that, sometimes, he's not a huge jerk.**

"So you enter the rotation here …" Kurt says, demonstrating the entry to the jump one step at a time "… then you take off on your toe pick here …" He turns, ending with his foot behind him, the rake of his blade stuck into the ice "… and push off …" He hops in a circle - a bare-bones hint of the jump he's attempting to teach. He hears a slow clap from off in the distance, but with the crowd of people surrounding him, he can't tell where it's coming from. He pivots to look at his student, Mindy, who's definitely not clapping. She's too confused, standing behind him with her arms crossed over her puffy, hot pink vest. Her bright red curls, gathered in a high ponytail, bounce back and forth as she shakes her head.

"I'm sorry, Coach Hummel," she says. "You make it look so easy, but I'm still having trouble following along."

"No problem, no problem." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black Sharpie. Every coach on the ice carries one for just such an occasion. "Let me outline it for you." He bends at the waist, retracing his steps with the point of his pen. With dashes and curves, he draws the steps to perform the jump on the surface of the ice. "Here. Does that make it a little easier to picture?" he asks, returning to her side.

"A bit," she admits, approaching the markings. "I'll give it a shot." Mindy goes to the beginning of the dashed line and gets into position with arms out. She follows the lines carefully, tracing them with her own blades – first glide, then three-turn, then pivot. But when she arrives at the 'x' where she is supposed to plant her toe pick, she loses momentum and stumbles to a stop. "Sorry, coach! Sorry!" she says, swiveling back into start position. "I don't know why that part always sneaks up on me!"

"It's because you're anticipating it," Kurt says, looking at the carves and divots Mindy's blade made in the ice beside his marks, and isolating where her skate started to stutter. "Let's take it to the glass." With a wave, Kurt leads Mindy away from their spot on the center ice, separated from public skate by a ring of neon green cones, to the sidelines. He peeks up past a throng of recreational skaters, zeroing in on the panel of windows where he plans to map out Mindy's jump. But as Kurt gets closer, he notices something already written on it … which is odd because the windows had been cleaned before session not thirteen minutes ago, and as far as Kurt knew no one else had been giving lessons there.

But there it was – a crudely drawn face with jagged teeth, pointy elf ears, a tongue sticking out, and the words, "Ask me about my sit spin!" along with a fake phone number written in a bubble by its side.

Mindy sees it and bursts out laughing. "Oh my God!" She snorts. "Coach Hummel! I think that's supposed to be you!"

"What the …?" Kurt mumbles, taking a second look. At first glance, it's just a face, but after a closer look – from the swooped bangs to the upturned nose and his sharper than average chin – it very well could be a drawing of him. "Mature," he groans, scratching out the picture with his Sharpie. It's drawn on the opposite side of the glass, so he can't erase it, but at least he can keep people on the ice from seeing it. "Real mature."

Kurt should have known something was amiss. He'd heard an odd clattering, a chortle, and the stampeding of blades running in the vicinity of the wall as they approached, but he couldn't see anything, so he'd paid it no mind. It's Friday, after school, and the rink is busy, fuller than safe on one end with beginner skaters, mostly young men playing the fool and falling on their asses for laughs. He knows he pissed off a few of them at the start of session by telling them to grow up and stay in their lane when they tried to snatch his green cones, but he didn't anticipate being targeted by anyone.

"Who do you think did it?" Mindy asks, regaining her composure out of respect for her coach.

"I'm not sure," Kurt says, throwing a look over his shoulder at the men on the other end of the rink. "But let's forget about it and continue." Kurt puts five drawings up on the glass, illustrating everything he'd said before: "You enter the rotation here … then you launch from here … and land roughly around here. Does that make sense?"

Mindy looks at Kurt's drawings, shadowing the movements in place. "Yeah … yeah, I think so!"

"Great! Let's go back to the center and give it another …" The second Kurt turns, he sees them. How in the world did he not notice someone doing _this_? It may be busy, and he may be purposefully ignoring the majority of the skaters there, but a person coming up to him and kneeling at his feet – _that_ he should have felt. But apparently he didn't, which is why there is a trail of black dashes, like the ones he had drawn for Mindy, traveling from his own blade all the way back to the center ice.

"Who do you think is doing this?" Mindy asks, intrigued (but also way too amused) by their mysterious graffiti artist.

"I don't know …" Kurt peeks through his lashes at the current of skaters in front of them "… _but I can take a guess_." Kurt knows very few people who carry a black Sharpie with them, but even so, there's only one type of Sharpie that writes as well on ice as the one he uses – and every coach has one.

He can't see center ice with the massive amount of people suddenly crowding in front of them, taking their sweet time as they pass, pointing and laughing at the ground. Kurt can only imagine what is there now in place of the markings he left.

As it turns out, everything he imagined was _wrong_.

He figured it would be another face, this one more childish than the first – him with massive acne, or vomiting, or farting, or something along those lines.

But the person leaving the pictures hit a bit below the belt this time.

They left a drawing of a penis, complete with grotesque hairy balls, and the words _Kurt Hummel was here_.

"What the-? No! No, no, no, no!" Kurt scratches out the picture, scraping his blade across the ice (to the detriment of his right inside edge), but it's too late. The entire rink had a chance to see.

And after Kurt's little freak-out, he realizes they now all know who _Kurt Hummel_ is.

Kurt scans the rink for a familiar red coach's coat and its owner. He finds him by the rink door, doubled over with his hands wrapped around his waist, unable to contain his laughter.

"Smythe!" Kurt yells, barreling across the ice as fast as his blades can carry him. Sebastian spots him, his lips pursing into an 'o' of surprise when he sees exactly how fast his boyfriend is traveling, and goes running. "Sebastian Smythe! Get your butt back here! Your Sharpie privileges have just been _revoked_! And I'm canceling your five o'clock!"

"Worth it!" Sebastian calls before he ducks into the safety of the other rink. "Totally worth it!"


	33. Professionalism

**Coach Beiste is giving a brand new 'stage mom' a tour of her facility - a woman lured to the Westerville Ice-plex by the stellar reputation of their ultra-serious junior coaches, Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe.**

 **At least, that's what she thinks.**

"Now you're _sure_ my children will get the training they need at your facility to become gold medal winners? I'm paying good money for them both to become _champions_. _National_ champions."

Coach Beiste stops herself from groaning as she leads her latest _stage mom_ , Mrs. Arnell Blankenship, through the double doors to the South Rink.

But she does roll her eyes when the woman's not looking.

"Like I said, Mrs. Blankenship, we have one of the finest facilities in Ohio: two Olympic-sized rinks, a state-of-the-art gymnasium specially tailored for competitive figure skaters …"

"State-of-the-art." The woman scoffs, stopping to lightly kick a sideline bench that's seen better days – one of the few relics left over from the rink's latest renovation. But what Mrs. Blankenship doesn't know (and she probably wouldn't care) is that that bench is an heirloom. One of the first American hockey teams to ever compete in the Olympics visited the Westerville Ice-plex a long while back (when it was called the Westerville Ice-flow Arena) and their players sat on those benches. As far as Coach Beiste is concerned, they're going to bury her with them – disassemble them and use the wood to build her coffin. "This whole place looks a bit _outdated_ if you ask me."

 _No one asked you_ , Beiste thinks.

"We've been in Ohio a long time. We have a rich history here. There's no crime in gettin' older, is there?" Beiste winks at the woman who looks personally offended by that remark. "Besides, our rink boasts more gold medalists than any other rink in Ohio."

"So you say." Mrs. Blankenship turns up her nose. "But that doesn't necessarily impress me. Like you said, you've been around a long time. That could just be a consequence of _old age_."

This time, Coach Beiste _does_ groan, but manages to segue into a hacking cough when Mrs. Blankenship gives her a judgmental side-eye glance.

"My children could have trained at _any_ rink in Ohio, Coach Beiste. They were personally invited to train at the rink in Columbus by the owner himself."

 _"_ _So you say,"_ Coach Beiste mimics to herself. " _And about a hundred times already ..._ "

"But I came here, in part, because of the popularity of your junior coach program."

"Oh, yes." Coach Beiste puffs up proudly. "It's one of a kind. We have more junior coaches on the ice during skate school than any other rink. We feel it's important for our kids to interact as much with the junior coaches as our adult coaches. It's good for the kids to have someone their own age that they can get help from. Plus, the friendships our kids form with their peers …"

"My kids don't _need_ friends, Coach Beiste," Mrs. Blankenship cuts in. "They have each other. That's why I had the two. _And_ they have _me_. They don't need anyone distracting them and wasting their time. The only reason why I want my kids interacting with the skaters in your program is because I want them surrounded by quality peers; peers who are _proven winners_ , who know the value of hard work, and who have a _thirst_ to excel. I want my children to know that there are skaters their ages who strive for perfection, who let nothing get in their way."

 _Proven winners_. Coach Beiste shakes her head. _They're not race horses. They're kids._ Every time she meets a woman like Blankenship, she thinks she might be getting a little too old for this. She became general manager when she was twenty-six. She's _twice_ that age now. She's spent every day of her life at this rink – coaching, working the box office, doing maintenance, cutting the ice, even cleaning the johns. She doesn't go on vacation, doesn't take sick days. She has more than enough to retire comfortably, to a small house on the beach, where she never has to talk to another uppity skate mom or angry hockey dad again. The only reason why she sticks around is so she can make sure these kids have a safe place to come and practice.

And she has a special place in her heart for the figure skaters and hockey players whose parents put too much pressure on them to be _perfect_.

In that case, she doesn't see herself retiring to that little beach house anytime soon.

"We support _all_ our kids here," Coach Beiste says, "competition skaters or not, and encourage them to do their best. But we also like our kids to be _kids_ , and to remember that there's more to life than winning gold medals."

"Funny you should say that when you advertise your rink as home to Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe. If I remember correctly, they rank in the top five, don't they?" Mrs. Blankenship sniffs superiorly as if she had just made some damning point. "You don't rise to that height without _serious_ dedication to the sport."

"Really?" Coach Beiste says, amused at the amount of condescension in this woman's voice. It's hard to believe that she's a mom. She seems to know _nothing_ about children.

Coach Beiste takes that back. She sees half a dozen parents like Mrs. Blankenship a day. Just goes to show – you don't need to know anything about raising children to actually have one.

"Really."

Coach Beiste bites her lower lip. "Hmm. Interesting." From the corner of her eye, she sees the train wreck coming their way, but there's no way for her to stop it.

Nor would she want to.

"Onward! Onward and upward! We must forge ahead into the great unknown!"

Both women turn towards the sound - a young boy crowing over the roar of plastic against ice, sliding full-tilt towards them.

Coach Beiste snickers.

Mrs. Blankenship's face goes white.

Sebastian, dressed in hockey pads over his practice outfit with a helmet on his head and perched on top of one of the rink's blue dolphins, points emphatically forward, while Mrs. Blankenship's daughter Tammy (also dressed in hockey gear) pushes him down the ice, giggling madly while Sebastian cries, "Go, Tammy! Or they shall capture us forthwith for sure!"

"Aye-aye, Captain!" the little girl manages between fits of laughter, her slightly too-big helmet falling over her eyes. She jars the dolphin to the right, which almost unseats its rider, but Sebastian shifts his weight and they carry on. Behind them, another blue dolphin gives chase, this one with a padded-up Kurt poised more conservatively in its plastic saddle, raising a broken hockey stick aloft in his right hand.

"Get 'em, Thomas!" Kurt encourages the boy (whose gear fits him better than Tammy's fits her) pushing his dolphin and laughing just as hard as his sister. "We must capture them and avenge our _hoooonnnnooooorrrr_!"

"Yes, sir!" Thomas calls, whooping and hollering as he digs his blades into the ice to pick up speed, nearly rear-ending the dolphin in front of them.

"Wha-what the hell are they _doing_?" Mrs. Blankenship screeches, debating between racing onto the ice in her boots to drag her kids off or watching this disaster play out.

"This is how our junior coaches train," Coach Beiste says, holding back a laugh.

"How is _this_ training!?"

"Strength and balance." Beiste tuts as if the answer is obvious.

Mrs. Blankenship scowls, her offended expression permanently glued to her face. "You're making that up!"

"I am not. Our coaches find it easier to train our skaters through games and play instead of just strict repetition. When you learn to enjoy practicing the hard stuff like endurance, speed, and strength, it seems less like a chore." She turns away from the giggling skaters and back to their mortified mother. "After all, if your kids aren't having fun on the ice, what're they there for?"

Mrs. Blankenship attempts to come up with an answer, opening and closing her mouth like a gaping fish, but what would she say? That someone who claimed they were a coach told her that her kids had heaps of natural talent and she decided to capitalize on it? That she chose this for them when they both saw it as a hobby? That the decision to turn them into champions was hers, not theirs? That they'd rather be playing soccer with their friends right now than be out here on the ice, but she knows better?

She can't admit to any of that, because that might make her sound like a jerk.

Sounding like a jerk in her head is one thing. Saying it out loud and having someone else confirm it is quite another, especially to the behemoth woman in front of her, smirking with one side of her mouth like she already knows.

Sebastian howls, and she focuses back on him.

"Come about!" he cries. "Let us stop running like _cowards_ and fight like _men_!"

"I don't want to be a _man_! I want to be _Wonder Woman_!" Tammy grunts, leaning on the handle of the dolphin to get it to change direction.

"Capital idea! Positively top notch! Come about, Wonder Woman! Let us vanquish our foes!"

Tammy's blades skid over the ice as she attempts to spin them around, but even though she's running fast, she goes nowhere. She stops for a second, pulls back, then pushes hard left, trying to force the dolphin to turn, but that tosses Sebastian to the ice, and the whole caravan comes to a screeching halt. Everyone, including Coach Beiste and Mrs. Blankenship, gasp. But Sebastian rolls to his knees and leaps to his feet in an instant.

"I'm o-kay!" he announces, and the two kids cheer, gathering around him to give him a high-five. Kurt, still sitting on his dolphin, laughs so hard, tears leak from the corners of his squeezed eyelids.

"And that's why they wear pads," Beiste says, wiping tears from her own eyes.

" _What_!?" Mrs. Blankenship takes a deep breath and counts to five, trying to regain her composure. "Coach Beiste," she says, ready to launch into a huge speech about commitment and professionalism and attitude and decorum, the same speech she's given her kids more than a dozen times this week alone, but Coach Beiste speaks up before she has a chance.

"Before you say anything, pumpkin, you already signed the contract, so your deposit's not refundable."

Mrs. Blankenship's speech dies inside a small yelp in the back of her throat. "But, I … no, I …" She looks from Coach Beiste's challenging stare to the kids on the ice, hers included, rolling around and fanning their arms and legs, laughing and making angels.

Her kids are _laughing_.

For the first time in weeks, honest to God _laughing_.

She may not like _why_ they're laughing, but they're laughing.

She _could_ stick to her guns, grab her children and leave, but she's in no mood to be the bad guy today, not when she's up against the two young men she'd so adamantly used as examples of greatness. If she did that, then one way or another, she'd have to admit she was wrong – either about them being role models, or about the amount of seriousness required to be an exceptional athlete. Besides, $300 is a lot of money to flush, especially when other rinks with less stellar reputations charge twice as much for their programs. She crosses her arms tightly and huffs. "Fine."

"Wonderful!" Coach Beiste beams at the reluctant woman, clapping her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the Westerville Ice-plex family!"

Mrs. Blankenship takes a step to her right out of the infuriating woman's reach, but she can't help smiling when she sees her little Tammy break off with Coach Sebastian and perform her first ever clean waltz jump with the biggest grin ever on her face. "Fantastic."


	34. Twas the Night Before Christmas

**It's the night before Christmas, and Kurt and Sebastian are spending it doing their favorite thing on earth - skating together.**

Mohawk … three turn … an effortless double Salchow … Sebastian watches from the edge of Kurt's pond as Kurt glides over the ice, transitioning into an outside spread eagle with his arms outstretched, beaming up at the star-filled sky. He looks so comfortable here, so at ease, spinning and twirling on the balls of his feet as if he weren't balancing on only 1.5 mm of metal.

Grace, elegance, _freedom_ – that's what Sebastian sees when he watches Kurt skate. Kurt is in his element on blades, but more so _here_ , out on his pond. Normally, when they skate away from the Ice-plex, it's at Sebastian's rink, since it's Olympic-sized - a replica of the rinks they compete at. But tonight, they decided to go old school and return to Kurt's roots – the pond out behind his house where he's been practicing since he was a little boy. His father has extended it over time, using it as the foundation for a decently sized outdoor rink. It's a little rough, which is why they opt for older skates, but they can both manage a decent triple Axel.

It's pretty great.

Plus, it had started snowing, and as corny as it sounds, Kurt Hummel - with sparkling blue eyes and flushed pink cheeks, gliding on a sheet of natural ice so white it resembles a cloud - looks like an angel.

"What are you smiling so hard about, Hummel?" Sebastian asks when he catches Kurt's eye. "Your face is going to split in two."

Kurt glances bashfully at his black Riedells against the white surface beneath them. "Well, it's two hours till Christmas, and I'm skating in moonlight with my boyfriend who's _spending the night_." He circles round, hiding his rosy red face from view. "If you'd told me last year that _this_ is how I'd be spending my holiday, I would have called you insane. Especially considering …"

"Considering your mom's in remission?" Sebastian takes a stab, but he doesn't have to be a mind reader to know he's missed his mark.

"Yes, _that_ ," Kurt agrees, guilty because even though _that_ should be the greatest good in his life right now, it's more of a tie. "But also because of you. Because you're here with me."

"Is that a good thing, or a bad thing?" Sebastian takes Kurt in his arms, barely noticing when they start waltzing. It happens so naturally. The moment Kurt puts his hand in Sebastian's, Sebastian's arm wraps around his waist, and they glide, moving together as if they were always meant to stay in step.

Always meant to travel in the same direction.

"It's a _wonderful_ thing," Kurt says, looping his arms around Sebastian's neck, knowing that Sebastian's arms around his waist will never let him fall, "because it proves _anything_ is possible. It proves that people can change …" Sebastian scoffs, rolls his eyes, and Kurt waits patiently for them to return to his face before he finishes "… even me." Sebastian raises an eyebrow, confused since he'd assumed Kurt meant him instead, but Kurt doesn't give him the chance to ask. "And what about you? What did _you_ imagine this year would look like?"

"Oh, you know – National Champion, driver's permit, Dom Perignon, Chippendales dancers …"

Kurt frowns through pinched lips, an expression on his face like he doesn't know whether Sebastian is kidding or not. "Really?" he says dryly, more an accusation than a question.

Sebastian snickers, both amazed and ashamed that Kurt can't tell when he's joking by now.

"No. Actually, I thought it would be a lot like last year – playing prop at my parent's annual Christmas party, showing off this year's medals to people who couldn't care less, then running off to my rink as soon as I could to be alone, which I would be, because no one would come looking for me."

Kurt sees the hurt in his boyfriend's eyes – genuine, _vulnerable_ hurt – and sighs.

"So, skating on Christmas Eve is kind of a tradition for you?" he asks, massaging the back of Sebastian's neck in sympathy.

"You could say that." Sebastian leans in, rests their foreheads together, breathes in a lung full of cold air and lets it out slowly against Kurt's chin. "To be honest, everything that's happened this year …" He shakes his head, chuckles like he just can't help it because reality _warrants_ it "… I couldn't have imagined any of it in my wildest dreams. Cutting ties with my team and my coach would have been unthinkable! Becoming a professional skating coach myself, and being _good_ at it? I mean, that's the plot twist of the century! And, whether you believe it or not, I never dreamed I'd have a boyfriend."

"Really?" Kurt asks, softer, quieter.

"Really. I don't consider myself _boyfriend material_."

"That's ridiculous." Kurt ghosts Sebastian's lips with his own, contemplating when would be the best time to give his boyfriend a comforting kiss. "You're an _excellent_ boyfriend."

Sebastian ducks his head and Kurt loses his chance.

"That's because I _want_ to be." He sighs. "And I want to be because of _you_."

They stop skating … or maybe they'd already stopped and their brains have finally caught up with their feet. Sebastian winds his arms tighter around Kurt's waist, hugging him with all his might.

"Is that a good thing?" Kurt's hands slide up, finding the back of Sebastian's head.

"Yes. Absolutely."

"And why is that?"

"Because it means that things can change." Sebastian sniffles – possibly from the cold, but probably from something else more directly related to the boy in his arms. "My future wasn't set in stone, no matter how many times it seemed that way. It proves that …" Sebastian stops. He looks into Kurt's face – his _expectant_ face – waiting for an end to that sentence. But instead, Sebastian kisses him, drawing him in like a breath, capturing his lips and enveloping him. Kurt startles in Sebastian's arms but kisses him back, his fingers winding into his hair and pulling him in deeper.

Rethinking his impulsive move, Sebastian pulls away. Kurt looks at him, panting breathlessly into the crisp, evening air – a feat that over three hours of skating had yet to accomplish. And since Sebastian stole his kiss, Kurt finishes his sentence "… anything is possible."

Sebastian nods. "Yes," he says. It's a heavy yes - a yes of agreement, a yes of acceptance …

… a yes of consent.

So Kurt kisses him again.


	35. Inspiration

_**The moment Sebastian decides to return to the competition circuit, he starts practicing his quadruple Axel. With time running out, he has yet to land one cleanly, and starts to lose hope he ever will.**_

"Sebastian?"

Kurt steps inside Sebastian's rink through the private entrance on the smooth wall that no one who hasn't been expressly invited inside would ever know about. From the outside, the structure looks like it's constructed out of a single piece of wood with no doors, only windows around the top letting in natural light. This entrance is the only way in from the outside, which means, if you know the secret, Sebastian Smythe must consider you among the best of his friends.

As far as Kurt knows, that's only been a handful of people.

For Kurt, being in on the secret is an honor, especially since, out of all of Sebastian's friends, Kurt is the only one to ever have a _key_.

"Sebastian? Are you in here?"

The rink is silent, _eerily_ silent, but Kurt knows he's there. He takes a few steps, listening carefully. As he gets closer to the doorway that leads to the ice, he begins to hear it – the roar of Sebastian working his edges, probably crossovers on deep lobes, traveling fast. There's a scrape, a grunt, a momentary silence, and then the sound of a body making contact with something hard – in this case, _ice_.

"Dammit!" Sebastian growls.

Kurt winces. That fall sounded painful. But it doesn't end there. The roar starts up again, metal cutting through ice, then another scrape/grunt/moment of silence, and this time, the clatter of two blades going _Smack_!

"Dammit! God fucking _dammit_!"

Kurt sighs. He rolls his skate bag over to a bench and takes a seat, opting to put on his skates out here instead of inside. He fights not to rush. He wants to help his boyfriend, but he knows there are things that Sebastian needs to work out alone.

Though, after Sebastian's next impact with the ice, Kurt nearly runs out without his laces tightened.

"Motherfucking _dammiiiiiittttt_!"

Sebastian's obsession with landing a quad Axel began the second he decided to return to competitive skating, and now it's taken over his life. Kurt understands. Quad Axels used to be the pinnacle – the unobtainable. Watching someone land one was akin to seeing a human being fly. It was almost mythical. Kurt's mother told him that's what it was like to see a skater land a triple back in her day. It was considered the height of athleticism for male skaters, and for women – unthinkable. But quad jumps of all varieties have become so commonplace now, it's nearly a requirement. Some judges don't give them much more weight than triples, especially if they aren't landed cleanly, but quads are the direction skating is headed. It's hard not to see it. A lot of the skaters Kurt and Sebastian chat with online predict it won't be long until quad combinations are seen in everybody's repertoire. But Kurt thinks Sebastian is rushing into this too quickly. Kurt has only landed a quad a handful of times, but he's willing to delay including one in his program, work on it slowly and make sure it's perfect.

Make sure he doesn't permanently injure himself in the process.

But Sebastian slipped into his upcoming competition under the deadline. He only has a few weeks to re-work his program to get the quad in. In Kurt's opinion, his program is amazing without it. A triple would be just fine in its place. But not Sebastian, not after he found out who he's up against. If he can't land it, he'll see himself as a failure. He may even decide to stop competing as a figure skater indefinitely.

Whatever Sebastian wants to do, Kurt will support him unreservedly. He seems to have more fun playing hockey anyway. It's less stressful for him, more in line with his character. But the figure skating world would definitely miss out if Sebastian hung up his Riedells for good.

He's too talented not to perform.

Kurt tightens his laces. He stands up and rolls his ankles a few times. He rises up onto the balls of his feet, does a few test hops to make sure his heels are seated properly, and after he's stalled for as long as he can stand, he steps through the door and out into Sebastian's rink. He walks over to the rail and leans against it, watching Sebastian transition from forward crossovers to backward crossovers, flying across the ice at a phenomenal speed. He turns, plants his toe pick, then launches himself into the air to perform his Axel.

The setup is nearly perfect, but Kurt can see from the second he goes into jump position, something's not right. He hesitates. It's just a fraction of a hair of a second, but seeing as Kurt has done the same thing a thousand times, he recognizes it when it happens. Sebastian leaps, manages the four and a half rotations, but lands too deep on his edge. He hits the ice on his hip, rolls quickly to his blades, and is back on his feet in an instant, ready to start again.

Kurt wants to call out to him, beg him to stop and take a breather, but he doesn't have to. Their eyes meet as Sebastian circles the rink.

He looks harried.

Exhausted.

Defeated.

Kurt puts up a hand and waves him over, and Sebastian obeys, even though he's more than determined to continue with his torture.

"Looking good," Kurt says as Sebastian glides to a stop.

"Yeah, right." Sebastian sniffs hard and runs a hand through his hair.

"Fine." Kurt shrugs one shoulder. "Don't believe me, Mr. Stubborn. But just one question - who are you trying to kill?"

Sebastian looks down at his right skate, his ankle sore from repeated missed landings. " _Me_ , apparently. I'm never going to land this jump."

"That quad will come when you're ready. When you let go of judgements and doubts, give up striving for perfection … and just _feel_ it." Kurt removes his blockers from his blades and sets them aside. "Not a second before."

"And what idiot told you that?" Sebastian swizzles backward a foot to let Kurt on the ice, already setting his frame in position to dance with his boyfriend.

As much as he wants to land that jump, he wants to skate with Kurt more.

"You know who." Kurt slides into Sebastian's embrace, takes his hand, and off they go, spiraling across the ice in a waltz formation they've practiced so many times, it has become a part of their DNA.

"Yeah, well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear," Sebastian says, slightly embarrassed at having his own words thrown back at him, especially considering the hell he's been putting himself through. He has to make this jump. There's no if, ands, or buts about it. If he doesn't have a quad, he doesn't have a program.

It's over for him, long before it ever began.

After everything that has happened to him professionally, becoming not only Kurt's figure skating coach but the coach of both the Westerville Ice-plex hockey teams, he thought he could leave his own figure skating career behind. Or, at least, take a break - bow out of the limelight, then show up again a few years later in _Stars on Ice_.

He didn't think he'd mourn it this badly.

"You know, jumps don't always matter," Kurt says, reading his boyfriend's mind from the far-off look in his eyes.

"The ISU doesn't make it seem that way, do they?" Sebastian chuckles, but there's no humor in it. Just more frustration, more exhaustion … more disappointment. Sebastian runs another hand through his hair and stares down at his boots as if his Riedell skates with their MK Blades (the finest money can buy), and the ice beneath him are withholding something from him, answers to a question that he's already answered in his mind.

He's not good enough.

He'll never make the jump because it isn't in him. It never was.

And no matter how many times he launches himself into the air, he'll never land it. Within the silence, he seems to remember that Kurt is there with him. He glances up at his boyfriend, a smile waiting on his rosy pink lips, and Sebastian can't help smiling himself, even if it's not much of one.

"Then what does, Master Jedi Hummel?"

" _You_ ," Kurt says. " _You_ matter. Your _heart_ matters."

"Yeah, but all athletes have heart. Don't you watch those commercials for the Olympics? The ones that manage to hawk dedication and Campbell's soup in one sixty second segment?"

"True, but skating is unique. It's one of those sports that's as much about emotion as it is about athleticism. In many sports, being emotional can be a deficit, but for us, it's a requirement. You have to share your emotions - your _heart_ \- with your audience. For that three or so minutes you're on the ice, you have to let them in, make yourself vulnerable. If you don't have heart, you're just a machine. But you, Sebastian …" Kurt sighs, gazing into his boyfriend's eyes as if they contained all of the beauty in the world, all of its passion "… I know you try to leave it at the door. And yes, there's so much you have to. But not your heart. And you have so much heart to share, it wouldn't matter if your program was full of quads, or if it had no jumps in it at all. The jumps don't make your skating special. _You_ do."

"You think so?" Sebastian says, on the bitter edge of making a sarcastic retort, but Kurt beats him to the punch.

"I _know_ so."

Sebastian nods, gaze focused across the ice, letting his boyfriend's words sink in as they spiral together, Kurt letting Sebastian take the lead and following where he goes. They swoop and spin, traveling so swiftly that Kurt actually whoops, which makes Sebastian laugh. He looks from the path ahead to Kurt's flushed and smiling face, a twinkle of understanding blossoming in his eyes. He twirls Kurt around, holding him with only one hand, moving farther and farther away. Kurt can only assume what he's intending to do – side by side camel spins, maybe double Axels. Sebastian usually clues Kurt in a second before, but he doesn't say a word. He holds Kurt's hand a moment longer … then lets go. With eyes locked on his bemused boyfriend, Sebastian sails across the ice on crossovers, his outside blade cutting across his inside so quickly, it's almost a blur.

Kurt glides to a stop as Sebastian flips direction, holding his outside edge. He turns, plants his toe pick into the ice, and leaps into the air – four and a half perfect rotations and the landing …

… stuck, his opposite outside edge meeting the ice as if he had done it that same way a thousand times.

Kurt stares at his boyfriend, awestruck.

Sebastian doesn't celebrate it. He doesn't cheer, doesn't turn cartwheels, doesn't pump his fist in the air. He returns to his boyfriend, wraps his arms around him, and holds him, breathing so hard he shakes Kurt's whole body.

"That was … that was amazing!" Kurt gushes. "You made it look so easy!"

"Well, you inspired me," Sebastian says, laying kisses in Kurt's hair.

Kurt shakes his head. "You felt it in your heart and you showed it with you skates. That had nothing to do with me."

"You _are_ my heart …" Sebastian takes Kurt's hand off his shoulder and brings it to his lips. Kurt's skin is cold, but it warms quickly beneath the heat of Sebastian's kisses "… so it had _everything_ to do with you."

Kurt blushes, biting his lower lip as his boyfriend blows warm air across his knuckles. "Do you think these up yourself? Or do you steal them from Hallmark cards?"

"Pinterest."

Kurt presses their foreheads together, feeding the smirk on his boyfriend's face with a slow, congratulatory kiss. "Shut up and skate with me, Smythe. And we'll see what else I _inspire_ you to do."


	36. Caring for a Diva

"Sebastian! Sebastian _Asshole_ Smythe!"

"We've discussed this, babe," Sebastian says, kicking his feet up on a throw-covered ottoman as his boyfriend storms in. "The _A_ stands for _awesome_. Not _asshole_."

"The _A_ stands for _I'm going to kick your ass from here to eternity if you don't tell me where my Zuca is right now!_ "

Sebastian glances up at his furious boyfriend, eyes burning red, nose raw from non-stop blowing, swaying from foot to foot, and snickers. "What … how does that even make _sense_?"

Kurt pauses with his mouth open, stuck searching his swirling brain for an appropriate comeback.

But also so he can breathe.

Between waiting for the room to stop spinning and looking for his skating bag, he doesn't have the time to trade smart-ass remarks with his irritating boyfriend.

"Whatever, alright!? I don't know and I don't care! Just _give it up_!"

"Not gonna happen, Hummel," Sebastian mutters, returning to his Instagram feed and hearting a few skating videos. "You're just _barely_ getting over the flu. You only broke your fever last night. Ergo, you're not going anywhere, young man."

"I _am_ because I'm giving a lesson today." Kurt sniffles, then he coughs, hacking so painfully it makes Sebastian's throat ache. "Rory Kirkpatrick. We're working on his short program for the Tiny Tots Grand Prix."

"No, you're not. I took care of it."

Kurt pulls a disgruntled face, the thought inconceivable. "What do you mean _you took care of it_?"

"It means that I called Mrs. Kirkpatrick, told her you were recovering from the brink of death, and offered her Blaine for the afternoon as a replacement. She's seen him teach down at the rink before, so she happily accepted." Sebastian doesn't turn back to his boyfriend, but from what he can see in his peripheral vision, the red in Kurt's eyes has infected the entirety of his face.

"B-but ... but Blaine doesn't know his choreography!"

"Give the guy some credit, babe. He's a quick learner. Besides, your kid's only in Beta. It's not like he's doing Lutzes or anything." Sebastian chuckles, imagining Rory, with his shock of red hair, his chubby little legs, and his electric-green eyes that pop to the size of hubcaps any time he does something right, execute a move as complicated as a Lutz.

The boy's head would probably shoot clean off like a firework.

"I'd say things worked out well for everyone, all things considered."

"But … _I_ came up with his entire performance!" Kurt whines. He doesn't mean to. He intended on presenting a mature argument, calmly persuade Sebastian to see how important this is to him. Kurt may not be performing in the Grand Prix (sort of a misnomer anyway as it's mostly ten-and-unders and not a one of them anywhere near Freestyle level), but it's the first performance for a student that he has fully choreographed without the help of a senior coach. He's rather proud of it. "He's _my_ student! You … you can't do that, Sebastian!"

"The hell I can't," Sebastian argues, scrolling past pictures at a blur to appear nonchalant when really all he wants to do is toss his stubborn boyfriend over his shoulder and carry his ass back to bed. "You're not just my boyfriend, alright. You're my skater. It's my responsibility to make sure you're healthy, and that's not going to happen if you don't get your ass back to bed!"

Kurt folds his arms over his chest, unwilling to be ordered around – not by Sebastian, not by anybody. His parents have to be behind this. They called Sebastian to play guard dog. He'll have to find some way to convince them to call him off.

Which would be easier if he knew where they were.

He scans the living room through blurry eyes, the room tilting sideways as he returns his gaze to Sebastian's reclining form. "Where are my mom and dad?"

"Well, seeing as I volunteered to take care of you, and they knew you'd be in good hands, they went on a date."

"They … they did?"

"Yup. They were _real_ excited, too. You wouldn't want me to call them up and interrupt to tell them their teenage son is acting like a _brat_ now, would you?" Sebastian challenges with an eyebrow raised.

Kurt raises an eyebrow in retaliation. "You _wouldn't_."

Sebastian arches his eyebrow higher. "Try me."

Kurt glares at him, calling his bluff, inching his own brow further towards his hairline, his forehead cramping. Sebastian flicks his screen, bringing up his contact list, and Kurt backs down.

He doesn't need to be _told_ on, especially not by his boyfriend, and besides, his folks deserve all the dates they can get. They'd been robbed of so many over the years that his mom had been sick. Maybe it's not necessary for Kurt to attend this _one_ lesson. He can skip it. Rory _did_ have his number pretty down pat. He just needs a little fine tuning, and Blaine is more than qualified for that. Plus, he has to admit, the way he's struggling to stand on his own two feet, he could use a few more hours – or _days_ – in bed.

That doesn't mean he has to like it.

"Fine," Kurt snaps, turning on his heel, wobbly but still gracefully, and storms back to his room like a spoiled toddler. Sebastian grins to himself as he watches him go, sneaking a long, gratuitous glance at Kurt's swaying hips and perfect ass, completely visible through the clingy sleep pants he wears _without_ underwear.

Sebastian doesn't enjoy fighting with his boyfriend, but it sure is nice to watch him walk away.

"There you go, diva. Back to bed," he mumbles after Kurt slams his bedroom door shut. He lowers his feet from their rest, toeing up a corner of the blanket to peek at the Zuca hidden underneath, black frame and red bag, containing Kurt's skates, his socks, his pads, and everything else he'd need to take with him on a trip to the rink. Without those, he's grounded. There's no way he'd stoop to using rentals. He'd buy a replacement pair from Walmart before he ever went _that_ route. "Which means you, my friends, are staying right here."

* * *

 _For those of you who don't know what a Zuca is (because I sure as hell didn't until I put my Queen in skates XD), here's a pic of Kurt's /upload/shop_8/1/9/1/item_1916/xshop_items_catalog_ . ._


	37. Conflicted

**Kurt and Sebastian are watching the pairs' competition while they wait to compete in singles ... but they're not necessarily enjoying it.**

 _ **Notes:** **I'm putting a squick warning on this one. There are a few couples in amateur competition that bother me for this reason in both ice skating and roller skating. Not in our rink, thank God, but ... yeah.**_

 _"Perfect side by side double Salchows, beautifully landed …"_

 _"Absolutely! Lydia and Lane are in excellent form tonight! Poised to take first place for the fifth year in a row …"_

 _"And this is just them at sixteen, with the maturity and grace of nineteen-year-old world champions!"_

 _"Only time will tell …"_

"Sebastian!" Kurt hisses, elbowing his stubborn boyfriend in the ribs. "Don't be rude! Clap!"

Sebastian tries. He raises his hands, completes two sad little pats of his palms against one another, but then shoves his hands beneath his arms.

"I … just can't, Kurt!" he argues while Kurt tries to wrench his hands out of his armpits. "It's just they … and I … I _can't_!"

"We _have_ to support them! That's the mark of a good sportsman! Don't you want _them_ supporting _us_?"

"Frankly, no. No, I don't."

"Well, people are watching, so you better get over yourself quick before tongues start wagging. And you _know_ they will. Judges score on attitude, you know – on and off the ice."

"Yeah, well, if my attitude hasn't put me in the bottom three so far, I seriously doubt it's gonna."

 _"An immaculate double twist! Did you see the height on that throw? Amazing!"_

But Kurt and Sebastian aren't concerned with the throw. It's the catch that has them stunned.

Locked arm in arm, both boys shudder.

"What's going on?" Blaine, standing on Kurt's other side and watching the two boyfriends argue, leans in to ask. "Why doesn't Sebastian want to clap for them? They're fantastic!"

"That they are," Kurt agrees, peeking at the couple dancing on the ice. His lip curls when they embrace, hands on corresponding smalls of backs, caressing mid-shoulders, each gazing dramatically off to the side. He elbows Sebastian again, who has given up clapping and throws his hands in the air. Kurt himself can only seem to manage a weak, perfunctory clap.

"Look at that synchronicity!" Blaine gushes with a low, impressed whistle. "I mean, you have to give them credit for _that_! Their footwork is perfect!"

"Well, they've been partners forever," Sebastian mentions, face scrunching as they turn toward one another again, arms wrapped around torsos as they spin, foreheads resting, noses touching.

"I-I don't get it." Blaine watches Sebastian wince as if the pair just landed on their faces. "They're not your guys' competition. You guys are competing in singles."

"Yup," Kurt answers this time, hands clasped in prayer position the moment Lydia and Lane latch on to one another, spiraling cheek to cheek.

"Plus, you have to admit, their routine is _hot_!"

That's the comment that seems to break Sebastian. He leans in behind Kurt to inform Blaine in semi-private, "Dude … they're brother and sister."

Blaine's face, grinning with second-hand heat from the searing performance in front of them, goes sickly pale.

"Wh-what?"

"Yeah."

"That's why Sebastian has a problem with them," Kurt says. "In fact … a lot of us do."

"Oh," Blaine says, lacking anything better, following up with, " _wow_."

"We're pretty sure it was their coach's idea. That's why they perform with different last names. And the messed up thing is, even if they didn't …" Sebastian gulps hard, trying to keep his lunch down "… there's nothing in the rules against it."

"We've checked," Kurt adds before Blaine can ask. " _Thoroughly_."

The crowd ooo's and ahh's, and Blaine looks back at the ice. He missed whatever brought on that response, but he's in time to catch their next lift … and the hold it entails. Suddenly, he doesn't want to watch them finish.

He wants to scrub his eyes out with a toothbrush and soap, then set them on fire.

"Hey, you guys want something from the snack shack?" he says, looking over his shoulder at the café behind them and gluing his eyes to it. "Cuz I have a sudden need to ... you know … buy a case of Evian and rinse my mouth out."

All three boys nearly retch when the couple performs a sit spin, Lydia in lay back position with Lane's head resting against her chest.

"You know …" Sebastian takes Kurt's elbow and turns him in the direction Blaine's already walking, while Kurt shields his eyes from the view "… I think we'll come with you."


	38. Common Courtesy

**In order to combat a common problem down at their rink, Sebastian institutes a new rule.**

 **Notes:** **In case anyone's wondering, yes, this happens a lot at my rink, and I've wanted to tell parents to do just this literally every single day.**

"Higher, Melanie! Higher! I want to see that leg in the air! And point your toe more! Madison, dear! Tell Melanie to point her toe more!"

An exasperated Madison looks at her young student, who had been doing her spiral perfectly before her mom began to bellow, and sighs.

"Point your toe, Melanie," Madison deadpans, then crosses her eyes, which makes Melanie giggle. But Melanie laughing at the faces Madison pulls out of her mother's line of sight makes the woman furious.

"Melanie! Show your coach some respect! I don't pay her _$50 a lesson_ so you can disrespect her!"

Madison rolls her eyes at the mention of her fee, which Mrs. Dickerson has tried to re-negotiate multiple times without success. Compared to other coaches, what Madison charges per half hour is a steal. But not every parent sees it that way.

Definitely not Mrs. Dickerson.

"Y-yes, mom," Melanie replies, shrinking into herself. Madison puts an arm around her shoulders and leads her away, trying to find a spot where Melanie's mother can't bother them. But the rink is basically a fish bowl. There's nowhere they can go that her mother won't see.

" _Respect your coach_. Why doesn't she try respecting her kid," Kurt grumbles, occupying himself by writing in his skating journal, planning out the choreography for his next competition routine. He's been doing his best to ignore Mrs. Dickerson, the way he tries to ignore all of the moms and dads who sit on the sidelines and bark criticisms at their kids as if they have been coaching figure skaters their entire lives. Most parents sitting in the hockey boxes have never set foot on the ice competitively a day in their lives. But the second their kids show some interest, suddenly they're Marina Zoueva.

"Most parents don't think they have to," Sebastian says, just as irritated as his boyfriend. "Not when the kids want to be here and they're signing the checks."

"Except yesterday, Melanie _didn't_ want to be here. She twisted her ankle in practice the day before, and it's still acting up on her. She told her mom over and over that she wanted to go home until she was in tears. And you know what her mom said? Deal with it. Yeah. It's easy to tell your poor ten-year-old kid to _deal with it_ when _they're_ the ones with pain in their legs, exhausted, afraid of twisting an ankle and falling on their heads, while you sit in the hockey box wrapped in a warm coat and blanket, doing nothing but yelling nonsense." Kurt shakes his head, trembling with anger. "You know, my mom was a competitive skater for _years_ and she rarely criticized me. And she sure as hell never yelled across the rink at me."

"Come on, Melanie!" Mrs. Dickerson yells, snapping at her daughter as if she were a dog. "Get your butt moving! I want to see you land at least one double Axel before we leave."

Melanie's eyes pop. She looks at Madison, who puts her hands protectively on her shoulders.

"With all due respect, Mrs. Dickerson," Madison says, "we just learned the single Axel. I'm not sure Melanie's quite ready to land a double just yet. Give her a few months, and when she's had a little more practice, we can …"

"With all due respect, Madison," Mrs. Dickerson interjects, mockingly, "I think I know better than you what my daughter is capable of. I've been watching her practice that single for the better part of this week. Now, I want to see her land a double, or we'll be here till this place closes."

"That's only six hours from now," Sebastian says, seething. "And _she'll_ probably duck out for an hour in the middle to go to Starbucks."

"Poor Melanie." Kurt hugs his journal to his chest. "She doesn't deserve this. She doesn't want to compete. She's not looking to go to the Olympics or anything like that. She just wants to perform, wear a sparkly dress, do some spins and jumps. You know, I think it should be a rule that if parents want to criticize their kids' skating, they need to do it on the ice with skates on. Then maybe they'd see that it's not so simple as pointing your toe more or lifting your leg higher."

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees, chewing that thought over in his head. He has an idea, but he's debating exactly how much trouble he'd get in for doing it. In the end, he decides _what the heck_. Is the Westerville Ice-plex really going to kick him – a national champion – out of their rink for trying to get a mom off their kid's back? Probably not. "Hey, babe. You're into all that fashion stuff. What size shoe do you think Mrs. Dickerson wears?"

"Uh … I don't know. A six, maybe a six-and-a-half. Why do you ask?"

"I think you came up with a way to get Melanie's mom off her case." Sebastian gives Kurt a quick kiss on the cheek. "Start practicing. I'll be right back."

"Melanie! What the heck are you doing with your arms? Hold them out straight! Straight!"

"Hello, Mrs. Dickerson," Sebastian says, then waits a moment for acknowledgement. When he doesn't get it, he continues. "I came to give you these." He puts a pair of beat up old grey-and-black rental skates on the bench beside her. The woman barely glances at them before she scoffs and says, "What're _those_ for? There's nothing wrong with Melanie's skates. Besides, she can't skate in rentals."

"They're not for her. They're for you."

Mrs. Dickerson jerks as if Sebastian spat in her face. "What in the world …? Look, I know you're a national champion and whatnot so they pretty much let you do whatever you want around here. But I don't appreciate being fun of, young man."

 _"No, what you don't seem to appreciate is how difficult what Melanie does is. The physical exertion, the skill, the dedication. And we're all sick and tired of listening to you berate her over something you know nothing about! So, from now on, if you want to comment on her skating – her posture, her arm position, anything at all – you're going to put on those skates, and you're going to go out there and tell her personally! $5 says you fall on your ass after two seconds."_

That's what Sebastian _wants_ to say. He'd also wanted to throw those rental skates right in Mrs. Dickerson's pinched, mutant, bull terrier-looking face. But he didn't because, regardless of how much of a jerk Melanie's mom is, she's a customer. So what he _does_ say is: "It's a new policy the coaches have come up with to cut down on the amount of extraneous noise in here while our skaters concentrate on their routines. Competition season is coming up, you know. So we're asking parents to skate over to their kids if they need to talk to them … as a courtesy."

"You must be joking."

"Nope. It's actually not a new concept. A lot of other rinks have started doing it all across the country."

"Well, _I've_ never heard of it."

"It's not the kind of thing a lot of rinks advertise," Sebastian says with a commiserate chuckle, "but it's been proven to work wonders in helping skaters maintain their focus."

Mrs. Dickerson crosses her arms, glaring at Sebastian skeptically. "Has it now?"

"Yup. If our skaters are going to perform at their best, they need to concentrate on their coaches and their choreography. We're just doing everything we can to make sure our skaters turn into champions. Make sure you get your money's worth." Sebastian winks and flashes her a smile. It's forced, but he's gotten better at faking it. Still, Mrs. Dickerson doesn't look completely convinced. Melanie skates by, preparing to perform a single Axel – single loop combination (an attempt on Madison's part to appease Melanie's mother). But right before she sets up, she drops her shoulder. Sebastian sees her mother begin to stand, mouth open, and he knocks on the wall of the hockey box to get her attention. Her eyes snap to him, annoyed at being interrupted, but he simply shakes his head and points at the skates.

"I'm sorry," he says sweetly. "But if you want to talk to her, you'll need to put those on." He turns on his blade and skates away, leaving her simmering on the bench with the pair of rental skates by her side. Melanie lands a second single Axel. It's more or less technically accurate except for her hand position, which, of course, will improve over time.

Nathan Chen didn't land a quad in a day.

Melanie's mother is itching to comment on it. Kurt can see it in her eyes, the way they widen; her lips twitching at the corners. But she hesitates. Her mouth drops open, but nothing comes out. Her gaze finds Sebastian on the ice where he's joining up with his boyfriend to go over his routine. Then she looks down at her side, like she's considering putting the skates on. But eventually she relents. She was right about the Westerville Ice-plex basically letting Sebastian do what he wants. He and his boyfriend are like rock stars there. Even if Sebastian is playing her for a fool, the management would probably take his side.

He brings them money, after all.

She slides down the bench and away from those ludicrous skates. She sticks her earbuds in her ears and reluctantly starts watching videos on her iPhone. Huddled inside her coat, she ignores Melanie and Madison, as if that's some sort of punishment. Madison sighs, gives Sebastian a grateful smile, then goes back to helping Melanie with her routine.

Sebastian doesn't turn around to see the fruits of his handiwork, but he can tell by the expression on his boyfriend's face that his bluff had the desired effect. It may not end the criticism altogether, but it might give Melanie a much needed break for a while.

"You are so bad," Kurt says, giggling behind his hand as he pretends to scratch his cheek.

"You said it yourself," Sebastian says, wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. "If parents want to talk down to their kids about what they do on the ice, let them do it in skates."


	39. Spun

**Sebastian built a motorized spinner that he's dying for his boyfriend to try.**

 **After watching Sebastian nearly launch Blaine into orbit, Kurt would rather head for the hills.**

"You ready, Anderson?"

"Yup." Blaine gives the harness fastened around his chest a final test tug. When he's satisfied it won't bust open, he gives Sebastian the thumbs up. "All set."

"Okay. On the count of three. One … two … three!"

Kurt holds his breath, debating between closing his eyes for the duration of this ordeal or not. He chooses not. If his best friend is willingly going to take his life into his own hands, someone should witness him.

Well, someone who won't enjoy it as much as Sebastian.

Sebastian flips a switch. A low hum fills the Ice Cave (the tacky name Sebastian gave to the off-ice fitness room in his rink). Blaine starts to spin, slowly at first, but with the turn of a dial, he begins to twirl at a phenomenal rate. Kurt's eyes go wide as Sebastian pulls the tether end of the leash that hoists their friend into the air. The second Blaine is airborne, he begins to scream.

" _Ahhhhhhh_!"

"Woo-hoo!" Sebastian hollers, beaming at his own success. "Look at him go!"

"Is he … is he okay?" Kurt asks, hiding behind his boyfriend as Blaine spins in the air at roughly the speed of sound. If not for Blaine's impeccable form and incredible core strength, his arms and legs would flail wildly, putting Kurt and Sebastian at risk for a concussion. As it is, Kurt prays Blaine doesn't end up with whiplash. "Is he supposed to do that?"

"Yeah, sure," Sebastian replies, mental fingers crossed. Sebastian _did_ test this out himself, but only at the lower levels. Technically, Blaine is acting as Sebastian's guinea pig. Watching Blaine twirl like a top, his face and features a blur, Sebastian toys with the idea of cranking it up to maximum, just to see what would happen. But he decides against it. He's not too sure that his parents' insurance would cover injuries sustained from launching a human being into orbit.

Besides, if Blaine gets hurt because he agreed to be Sebastian's test dummy, Kurt would never make-out with him again.

Sebastian peeks over his shoulder at his worried boyfriend when Kurt's hand creeps onto his shoulder and squeezes hard. Sebastian rolls his eyes. Blaine's a tough kid. Even if the harness comes loose and Blaine plummets to the floor, he's unlikely to break anything important.

"If you're so worried, why don't we ask him?" Sebastian suggests, lowering Blaine as he loses momentum. "Blaine? Buddy? How you holding up?"

Blaine's answer comes as a sustained, drunken giggle – the highly contagious kind. But Kurt doesn't catch it.

"Holy crap!" Blaine snorts when his feet hit the spinner board again. He teeters left and right, his fingers fumbling to undo the buckle secured around his chest. Kurt doesn't think undoing it yet is wise seeing as the harness and tether seem to be the only things keeping him from falling on his face. "What a rush!"

"See?" Sebastian turns to his boyfriend, who's steadily backing away. " _Blaine_ likes it. And you trust _Blaine_ , don't you?"

"Uh …" Kurt looks from Blaine's flushed face, shifting eyes, and incessant stumbling, to his boyfriend's smug grin. He struggles to come up with an answer that won't dent Sebastian's ego too badly. But when he can't, he settles on, "nope. Nope, nope, nope! I'm not gonna do it! You can't make me!"

Sebastian frowns. He thought he had the perfect plan, that Kurt would trust Blaine's opinion implicitly.

Apparently not.

"Why not?"

"Because I just watched you almost spin Blaine into another dimension, Sebastian! That thing _terrifies_ me! There's no reason any human being needs to spin that fast unless they're going into space!"

"Come on, Kurt!" Sebastian pleads. He'd never push Kurt to do anything he's not comfortable with, but Sebastian _made_ that spinner. Designed it and everything. He's super proud of it. And he proved that it worked. When he'd finished it, he'd hoped that Kurt would take it for a test drive. Then he would see that there was something else Sebastian was good at beside figure skating and hockey. And maybe that would turn him on. "Please? Give it a go? It's completely safe."

Sure, Sebastian wasn't sure _how_ safe until a few seconds ago, but everything turned out okay … even if Blaine's hair is hanging a little straighter than usual.

"Didn't you put a lawnmower engine in that thing!?"

"Yup. It needed a little _oomph_!"

"And it's definitely got that!" Blaine agrees. He goes in eagerly when Sebastian offers him a high five … and misses by a mile.

"Look," Kurt says, watching Blaine fly forward into a bench, "I may be a figure skater, and I may do spins, but I don't particularly _enjoy_ spinning."

" _This_ might help you with that," Sebastian says, grasping at straws because Kurt's spins are stellar. How he expects his spinner to help Kurt, he doesn't really know.

But it couldn't hurt.

Skaters in general can always use more speed and control.

"Please?" Sebastian begs, contemplating getting on his knees to make it more effective. "Blaine and I will be here to help you out the entire time. There's an emergency kill switch on the spinner, and I'll have control of the harness. I swear, nothing bad is going to happen to you."

"Yeah," Blaine chimes in, holding his head between his hands to keep the world from spiraling away, "the whole time."

Kurt glares at Blaine, then at Sebastian, and shakes his head, his young life flashing before his eyes. _The things he does for the boy he loves …_

"Fine," Kurt groans, making his way to Sebastian's spinner box, refusing to meet his boyfriend's smiling face. He climbs up, taking the single step like a doomed prisoner escorting themselves to the gallows. "But just so you know," he says as he slips his arms into the harness and buckles it tight around his chest, "if you let go, I'll take my newly sharpened skates and slice you to pieces so small, even science won't be able to wangle-dangle you back together."

"Fair enough," Sebastian agrees, though he can't say he heard Kurt correctly in his haste to get him harnessed. He tries to check Kurt's handiwork, but Kurt slaps his hands away.

"Let's just … get this over with," Kurt mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Alrighty then!" Sebastian races to grab the tether, too excited to be upset over Kurt's rejection. "Are you ready?"

"No." Kurt takes a deep breath. "Just start the damn thing."

"On the count of three …"

"Three!" Kurt snaps.

"Alright, alright. Jeesh." Sebastian flips the switch, put off at being denied the build-up this moment deserves.

The room goes quiet.

Then, the humming begins.

The second the board beneath his feet begins to move, Kurt regrets this decision. He looks straight ahead, trying to focus on one thing in front of him for his eyes to return to after each full rotation in an attempt to stave off dizziness, but it doesn't work. The faster the board spins, the more indistinguishable individual items in the room become until everything blends to form one singular wash, like the stroke of a broad brush. The world turns grey before his eyes and suddenly _zoom_! He's off his feet and in the air.

It doesn't feel like jumping, or flying, per se. He's levitating, the world pressing in on him as he hovers in the air, keeping his arms plastered to his chest and his knees locked. He thought he'd start screaming the way Blaine had, but the breath in his body gets knocked back into his lungs, and there it stays. He hears voices around him asking him how he's doing, but his ability to answer has been temporarily disabled, as has his impulse to breathe. He doesn't feel sick _yet_ , but he does feel like he's been spinning for half-an-hour, though he knows it's probably only been a few seconds. He feels himself slow down, then lower, but when his feet touch down on the spinner board, he's surprised to find he's not in the air anymore.

He was just beginning to get used to it.

He may have even started to enjoy it.

"How was that?" Sebastian asks, the question laced with worry as he grabs Kurt's arms and holds him steady.

Kurt pants before he answers, trying to catch his breath with his lungs expanding again and allowing air to pass through. "That … was … incredible!" he manages. He reaches for the buckle to the harness, but Sebastian's hands are already there, hurrying to get it undone.

"Really?" Sebastian asks, getting Kurt unhooked and helping him down. "Because we were getting a bit nervous. It didn't look like you were breathing."

"I wasn't," Kurt admits. "It was like …" Kurt bites his lower lip and looks up at his boyfriend with shy, blurry, eyes "… it's like kissing you. It sweeps you up and lifts you away before you have a chance to change your mind. Everything happens so fast, you can't breathe."

"Yeah?" A blushing, preening Sebastian moves towards his boyfriend's lips, capturing them briefly with Kurt's words still buzzing between them.

"Yeah," Kurt whispers, kissing Sebastian back, forgetting for a moment that Blaine is standing in the same room, not five feet away. "It's exactly like kissing you."

"So … you'd do it again?"

"I'd …" Kurt's eyes dart to the right and the world tilts left. The stress of the past few minutes finally hits Kurt full force in the stomach, surging up his throat like a tidal wave of sick. "Hell no!" he hiccups, throwing a hand over his quivering lips. "Get out of my way! I need to vomit!" Kurt shoves his boyfriend aside, winding past Blaine and running for the exit. He barely makes it to the door before he's emptying his stomach around the edge of the jamb and into an obliging bush. Blaine and Sebastian stand in silence, wincing at the sound of Kurt puking his guts out.

"So …" Blaine's shoulders tighten with Kurt's next hurl "… does that usually happen after you guys kiss?"

"Shut it, Anderson!" Sebastian says, leaving Blaine so he can see how his boyfriend is doing. "Or next time, I'm sending you to the moon!"


	40. Streaker

**Minutes before performing at a huge exhibition, in front of an enormous crowd and with dozens of renowned skaters, Kurt gets an epic case of cold feet. Sebastian and Blaine do their best to calm him down, but it's not working. Kurt says he'll only feel better if someone else makes a bigger ass out of themselves than he's going to.**

 **And then, out of the blue, someone does.**

"I can't … I can't do this," Kurt says, anxiously pacing the green room. "I can't skate in this exhibition! Who am I kidding? I should just … I should leave right now." He makes a beeline for the door, but Sebastian leaps in his way and intercepts him.

"Kurt" – Sebastian kneads the muscles of his boyfriend's upper arms, trying to help him relax – "we talked about this. You've meditated over this. You can do this! I promise!"

"You think so!?" Kurt scoffs. "I'm sorry, but did you _see_ Adam Rippon skate? He was flawless, Sebastian! Flawless! And the ShibSibs are here, Nathan Chen's here." Kurt gestures to the flat screen television on the wall displaying the rink below, with Nathan circling the ice, gearing up to perform. "He's the quad king! By rights, they don't even need the rest of us if he's performing! Meryl and Charlie are here, Tessa and Scott …" Kurt's hands drop to his sides, his gaze falls to his feet "… then there's me - Kurt Hummel, from backwater Lima, Ohio, in an outfit I made myself like frickin' Tonya Harding."

"Well, I, for one, think you look _incredible_ in this outfit." Sebastian takes a step back to get the full effect of the crimson red, hand-stoned outfit Kurt labored months over especially for this exhibition – skin tight, and with a nude panel that makes it look essentially backless. Sebastian has spent many an uncomfortable and unfulfilled night fantasizing about Kurt in that outfit.

It makes Adam Rippon's sheer burgundy top and black pants look like a Catholic school uniform.

"Plus, you didn't bash anyone's knee to get here, so that's a point in your favor, isn't it?" Blaine adds. But even though his attempts at humor during stressful situations usually get him a giggle, Kurt glares him down until he feels his skin pull back from his bones.

"Kurt" - Sebastian pulls his focus from a shrinking Blaine before the boy bursts into flames - "Kurt, you've got to calm down."

"Calm down?" Kurt's eyes snap to Sebastian's face with the speed of an arrow leaving a crossbow. " _Calm down_!? How do you expect me to calm down!? Wh-what … what am I even _doing here_?"

"You _deserve_ to be here, alright!? You _earned_ the right to be here! You beat out hundreds of other skaters to perform at this exhibition. Do you remember what it says in the bio they printed in the program? _Olympic hopeful_."

"B-but … b-but _you_ wrote that bio!"

"So? They wouldn't have printed it if it weren't true! Because that's what you are! An Olympic hopeful! You're at the top of your game, Kurt! Most skaters will work their entire lives and never make it to where you are!"

Kurt sighs. His eyes drift to the row of windows overlooking the stadium below. Every seat is filled. It's the largest non-competition crowd he's ever seen in his life, and that makes his anxiety a thousand times worse. These people _want_ to be here. They're not here in support of their kid, or their sibling, or their teammate. These people paid sixty-dollars for the cheap seats; other people paid in upwards of a hundred and seventy-four dollars! Is his routine worth a hundred and seventy-four dollars a seat? He's not too sure. "I wish I had your confidence in me. But right now …" Kurt's attention shifts to the TV screen when he hears the crowd applaud and catches the tail end of Nathan Chen landing what had to be a stellar quad-quad combination "… I'm feeling a little overwhelmed." He raises a hand to his mouth when Nathan lands another quad as easily as playing hopscotch. "I think I'm going to be sick."

Blaine races over with a small waste paper basket, but Sebastian waves him away.

"Hey …" He steps between Kurt and the screen, blocking his view of Nathan's complicated footwork "… would it help you feel better if we made out? Maybe turning you on will turn the nerves off."

Kurt raises an eyebrow at his _coach's_ suggestion. "How much of a turn-on will it be if I vomit in your mouth?"

Sebastian shrugs, a wicked smile sticking to his lips. "I don't know, but some people are into that. Maybe we should get it on camera."

"Sebastian!" Kurt clamps both hands over his mouth with that image glued to his brain. "You're not helping!"

"Sorry, sorry. I was hoping that would make you laugh. I had a 50-50 chance."

"Sebastian! This is _serious_! Everyone here brought their A game. And me? I feel like I'm somewhere in the vicinity of _R_. The only way I could possibly feel better about my performance is if someone, _anyone_ , makes a bigger ass of themselves than me!"

Outside the green room windows, a handful of women scream, followed by a roar of laughter and cheering. Kurt looks at the screen, but where Nathan had been a moment before landing a triple Lutz, all Kurt can see are the backs of heads from people standing in their seats, and, in some cases, _on_ their seats, to get a better view. The feed bounces from camera to camera, but none of them can seem to get a clear shot of the ice.

"Jesus Christ!" Kurt moans, face pointed to the heavens. "What's happening _now_?"

"I don't know." Blaine heads for the windows, trying to catch a glimpse through the rush of people swarming the railings, but all he can see from his vantage point is security creating a wall to keep the performers in the green rooms separate from some altercation on the ice.

Sebastian starts to join him when he hears Kurt gasp, his eyes focused on the TV screen. Sebastian looks back to the broadcast feed. There's someone sliding across the ice, in sneakers, being pursued by a wave of armed security guards. A rather husky, extremely hairy guy.

And he's naked.

Correction. When the closest camera to the ice finally takes over the feed, Sebastian can see the man is sporting a novelty thong, a bright pink flamingo covering the man's dick … but doing nothing to conceal his balls.

Blaine joins Kurt and Sebastian. The three stand in front of the screen as the camera zooms in on the streaker. He waves at the audience, laughing like a wild man. He leaps clumsily to avoid capture, the flamingo on his junk swinging left and right as he launches himself into the air. The peal of laughter filling the stadium is deafening, but boos begin to drown those out when he evades capture and the chase starts taking too long.

This is funny and all, but for a hundred and seventy-four dollars a seat, not what the crowd came to see.

When security finally tackles the man to the ice - a move that gets at least three cringing _ooo's_ \- the audience gives security a standing ovation. Comments of, "Finally!", "Thank God!", and "Bring on the skaters!" travel around the crowd. Blaine shakes his head slowly, staring at the screen, unblinking.

"I … I can never un-see that," Blaine says, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees. "I mean … we just saw flamingos at the zoo last week … _ugh_ …" He shudders, watching in morbid shock as security leads the man away.

During the excitement, Sebastian and Blaine lose track of Kurt, gathering up his things in the room behind them. Sebastian finally notices him doing a few test jumps, shaking out his shoulders and stretching his hamstrings with his game-face on. Sebastian smacks Blaine on the arm to get his attention, motioning towards his boyfriend with his chin.

"Kurt?" Sebastian says as Kurt grabs his bag – a rectangular leather clutch filled with his essentials: tissues, moisturizing face mist, Purell, Band-Aids, trail mix, and the like. "Where are you going?"

"I'm going down to the ice. I'm up in a few. You guys comin'?"

"Uh … yeah." Sebastian exchanges a look with Blaine, who's putting on his jacket. "Are you … are you going to be okay?"

"Don't worry." Kurt squares his shoulders and strides for the door. "I've got this."


	41. Figures

**Bored working on plain old figures, Kurt starts drawing pictures with his blades on the ice. Sebastian joins in, hoping to impress his boyfriend ... but Blaine beats him to it.**

"Just another curve here … and one there …" Kurt whispers, twirling slowly, purposefully on the ice. "And then if I … hey!" he barks at his boyfriend, staring so hard at the movement of his blades, Kurt can feel it through his boots. "No peeking!"

"I'm not peeking!" Sebastian argues, shifting positions to get a better look at Kurt's carves. "I'm staring! Aren't you done yet?"

"I'll be done when I'm done!" Kurt goes back to what he was doing and focuses on another tight three-turn. "Go work on your own!"

"Whatevs," Sebastian grumbles, returning to his ice drawing but not really working on it. He gives it a once over and shakes his head.

Poor thing. It's a lost cause.

Kurt and Sebastian came down to Sebastian's rink when Kurt decided to plan the choreography for a new routine for the winter competition season. Instead of going Top 40 this time, he chose the instrumental version of a ballad his mom once skated to back in the day. But instrumental, like classical, means lots of edgework – spirals, Choctaws, crossovers, and so forth. So they have to work on the basics.

And Blaine joined them because of course he did.

Sebastian didn't really mind so much. Blaine needs more work on his edges than Kurt, he'd thought vindictively. And since they both trust Sebastian to put them through their paces, Sebastian could assign Blaine as many figures as he wants and the boy would do them.

Yup. It was going to be a _long_ afternoon of crossovers and three-turns for one Blaine Anderson.

But Kurt, becoming bored after half-an-hour of simple figure 8s, started carving other shapes into the ice – diamonds, hearts, triangles, then random geometric formations that eventually became flowers.

Beautiful flowers, actually.

Kurt made it look so easy that Sebastian decided to give it a shot.

In the spirit of adding to his boyfriend's bouquet, Sebastian tried to make a tulip. He acknowledged his mistake, though, when he looked down at the flower he'd been carving and realized it looked like a dick. Sebastian did his best to fix it, but it doesn't matter.

It still looks like a dick.

And Kurt will never believe that he didn't do that on purpose.

So, Sebastian gave up and started watching his boyfriend work. Specifically, he's been enjoying the way Kurt's hips wiggle and his ass pops as he lifts up onto his toe picks to make his cuts.

Could he get away with lying on his back and watching from a better angle?

He thinks not.

He might end up with a toe pick to the cheek.

"You're not going to stop staring, are you?" Kurt asks as he adds long, flowy stems to his creations.

"Nope," Sebastian admits without apology, subtly adjusting himself when Kurt's back is turned.

"Well, I guess I'm done then." Kurt sighs, hands on hips as he looks over his sketch. "It's not my best work, but …"

"Kurt …" Sebastian approaches slowly so as not to wreck a single line of his boyfriend's picture. He slides to a stop behind him and examines Kurt's ice flowers with awe. He knew that Kurt was an artist. He's seen him design countless outfits and whatnot. His skating journal, where he plans his routines, is full of figures that look exactly like him and Sebastian and Blaine. But this … this is on another level entirely. This is something that Sebastian, with his years of training, all the fancy coaches he's had, all the workshops he's gone to, all the money his parents have paid to support his career, could never pull off … as evidenced by the sad penis flower defiling the ice behind them. "That's _amazing_!"

"You think so?"

"Absolutely!" He wraps his arms around Kurt's waist, and Kurt leans back against him, pressing his back to his boyfriend's chest as Sebastian hugs him tight. "We have to snap a picture or I'll never bring myself to resurface the ice again."

Kurt tilts his head up, gazes into his boyfriend's proud face, and gifts him a peck on the chin. "Well, what about your picture?" He turns towards Sebastian's corner of the ice in search of his boyfriend's work. "Let's see what you made!"

"Uh … let's not and say we did," Sebastian says.

"Sebastian!"

"Nope," he insists, re-directing Kurt towards Blaine, still at work on his own drawing. "Time to go see how Blainey's doing." Kurt digs his toe picks in when Sebastian tries to push him in Blaine's direction, but Sebastian circumvents that by lifting him off the ice and skating him, struggling but giggling, over to their friend. "Blaine! Let's see your picture, Blaine!"

"Yes!" Kurt says, laughing. "What did you make, Blaine?"

"Oh" – Blaine looks up as if he never expected anyone to want to see his masterpiece – "it's … uh … it's not done yet."

Kurt and Sebastian reach the edge of Blaine's artwork and stop.

Kurt gasps.

Sebastian almost drops his boyfriend. He sets him down gently, then seethes over Kurt's shoulder a second after.

In true Blaine Anderson fashion, he's shown Sebastian up. Not that that was difficult to do considering ...

… penis flower.

But Blaine didn't etch a bouquet of flowers like Kurt did, or a simple still life in any fashion. The best Sebastian can tell, he's created a miniature skyline inspired by van Gogh's _The_ _Starry Night_.

And it's pretty much close to perfect.

"That's … that's beautiful!" Kurt wriggles out of Sebastian's arms and skates over to his best friend. He puts a hand on Blaine's shoulder and rests his head against it. "You're _really_ talented!"

"You think so?" Blaine ducks his eyes, blushing to his roots at the admiration in Kurt's voice.

"Totally! Don't you think so, Sebastian?"

"Yeah," Sebastian agrees through clenched teeth. "Totally."

"Aw, shucks, you flatterer," Blaine teases, clasping his hands in front of him and batting his eyes.

Sebastian's upper lip curls, and Blaine bats his eyes faster, but Kurt doesn't notice the tension - too impressed by Blaine's drawing. Of course, he's also become used to the pissing contests that still go on between the two. It's gotten to the point that it barely fazes him anymore. "I've got to go grab my camera and get a picture of this!" He flies off the ice to grab his phone, leaving his best friend and his boyfriend to deal with each other alone.

Sebastian looks at Blaine, and Blaine, for all of his humbleness, smirks.

"Show off," Sebastian mutters, returning to his drawing to see if he can turn it into something a little less phallic.


	42. Privilege

**An expensive gift of new skates stirs strong feelings in Kurt as he comes to terms with his newfound stardom.**

"Ah …" Sebastian sighs, sitting on Kurt's bed amidst the second load of packages UPS delivered that day. That's not to mention the letters, which the post office carts over in bags a few times a week. He sticks his hand into the closest bag of fan mail, rifling through a stack of cards, some addressed in crayon. "The perks of being a star athlete."

"I guess …" Kurt replies, focused on a luxe-looking white card covered in gold writing. Sebastian has seen cards like that before. He's gotten one or two. But whatever this one says has Kurt's full attention. He sits up to get a better look. When he sees what Kurt has laid out before him, he laughs without meaning to.

"Did you seriously buy yourself _three new pairs_ of Riedells?"

"Ha." Kurt scoffs. " _I_ didn't buy _anything_. They were _sent_ to me, courtesy of the kind people at Riedell for being, and I quote, 'a highly regarded member of Team Riedell'."

"Even better." Sebastian climbs off the bed and joins him on the floor. "The best skates are the ones you don't have to pay for."

Kurt opens the first box. Wrapped carefully in white paper, the Riedell symbol printed on it in gold, are two white satin bags, holding (according to the box) a brand new pair of the skates he already owns. Though, knowing the caliber of the equipment companies send to athletes that represent their brand, these probably have crystals running up the back (to complement his signature fashion style), his initials embossed in gold on the ankle, or his name engraved on the blades. He rests a hand on one, not quite daring enough to take it out of the bag, and shakes his head. "You know, a year ago, I couldn't even get Riedell to follow me on Instagram, no matter how many pictures I hashtagged _I skate Riedell_. But a week ago, I made a post hinting that I might need a new pair of skates soon and _boom_. Three brand new pairs of skates, along with an invitation for a fourth _custom_ pair, right at my door."

"And not a moment too soon," Sebastian says, taking the invitation from Kurt's hand when he offers it to him. "We've had your Arias fixed so many times, they're looking a little sad."

"I don't even know how they got my size."

"Google. Believe me, they have eyes everywhere." Sebastian tucks the invitation into the box and puts an arm around his boyfriend's shoulders. "You have to expect it, babe. You're a star now. Everyone's gonna want you to skate in their gear. At least you actually like Riedells. You won't have your name associated with a company you don't believe in."

"Yeah." Kurt takes his hand off the skate and sinks into Sebastian's side. "That's a plus."

Sebastian looks down at his boyfriend - at his skater - bummed for no reason Sebastian can see. "Does that bother you?"

Kurt shrugs. "Yes and no. I mean, I love Riedell skates. My first pair of skates were Riedells, my last pair are going to be Riedells ..."

"But …?"

"Well, ice skating is the most expensive sport in the Olympics! Aside from equestrian sports. I've got sponsors, a few endorsements. I don't have your kind of money but, at this point, I can afford my own skates. So many other kids out there with potential are struggling to excel at a sport they love using rental skates. And they'll keep struggling with rentals because a decent pair of boots and blades cost half a paycheck, even if you buy them on eBay."

"Some people see that as a rite of passage. If you want it bad enough, you'll sacrifice." Sebastian gives his boyfriend a comforting squeeze. "You sacrificed a ton to get where you are, and look at you. Look how far you've made it."

"Talent and ambition only take you so far. I was in the right place at the right time," Kurt says quietly. "I met the right person, and they believed in me." He peeks up at Sebastian, meeting his boyfriend's gaze with eyes already saying _I'm sorry_. " _You're_ talented. _You_ have ambition. Did _you_ have to sacrifice?" Kurt feels Sebastian's arm around his shoulders tighten. "Not to be mean or insulting but I've seen your skate collection. You have boxes of skates you haven't even opened, and a lot of those were just sent to you."

"They were sent to me because I was on Elite," Sebastian says, even though he knows he doesn't have to clarify. And he doesn't have to defend himself. Kurt's not blaming him. Sebastian gets what he's saying. Not a one of the boys on that team needed anything that their parents' money couldn't provide, and yet each of them received loads of gear every season that they'd never be able to use. Some of the skates Kurt is referring to don't even fit Sebastian, but it never dawned on him to give them away. They were like trophies – a symbol of status that Kurt hasn't enjoyed until recently. Sebastian watched Kurt struggle on his old skates for the past year, watched the soles soften and fall apart. Kurt posted about it on Instagram, and Riedell, for all of Kurt's tagging, said nothing. They didn't offer to replace them or fix them.

They didn't even give him an apology.

Having those new skates show up at his door is as exciting as it is a slap in the face.

"Maybe we could start a foundation or something?" Kurt suggests. "I want to help make decent skates available to all those kids who want to pursue skating but can't afford to. At least here in Ohio."

"Yeah. I think my uncle could help us with that. And we could hold a drive down at the rink, get people to donate their old skates for kids who can use them. Coach Beiste will let us do it for sure. We'll start with mine. How about that?"

"Really?" Kurt sits up, looking at his handsome boyfriend with appreciation. Kurt has always wanted to be a role model – an athlete with a mission, to help advance the future of his sport. He knows that that future could rest in the hands of kids who, because of money issues, might never get their chance on the ice. Watching them down at the rink on discount days, tripping around in rentals but never giving up, knowing that a better skate could mean the difference between recreational skater and athlete …

… it breaks his heart.

"Really." Sebastian pulls Kurt close.

Kurt kisses him deep.

"Thank you," he whispers. "That means a lot to me."

"Well, keep thanking me like _that_ , and I'll have to find more stuff to donate."

"So does that mean I'm a good kisser?"

Sebastian grins, eyes glued to his boyfriend's mouth, waiting for another kiss. "Yes, sir. A _very_ good kisser."

"Maybe I should put those skills to good use then."

"Maybe you should," Sebastian agrees, inching closer.

"I could open a kissing booth!"

A breath away from his boyfriend's mouth, Sebastian stops. "Wha-what?"

"A-ha. For a dollar a smooch. And I can use that money as the first official monetary donation to our foundation!"

Sebastian snarls. Kurt laughs out loud. "How about _I_ get _all_ the kisses and write you a check? That way I won't have to kill anybody!"

"Sounds like a plan!" Kurt bombards his boyfriend's lips with pecks. Sebastian retaliates by pulling him into his lap and tickling him.

"What do you want to do about these?" Sebastian asks his panting boyfriend, nudging the nearest skate box with his toe. "Did you want to send these back? Say thanks but no thanks, I'll buy my own?"

Kurt snaps his head up, staring at Sebastian like he's crazy.

"Not a chance! I mean, I recognize that they were given to me because I have a certain amount of privilege now, but they're $900 skates, Bas! That's twenty-seven hundred dollars sitting here alone!" Kurt swipes the gold embossed invite from the box and hugs it to his chest, including it in his sentiment. "I'm keeping the skates!"

Sebastian kisses Kurt's forehead, smiling proudly. "That's my boyfriend."

* * *

 _Notes:_

 _JSYK, I don't know that this is the way Riedell works. I love Riedell skates. I'm only using them in this series because my daughter skates Riedell. I'm sure if the soles of her skates fell apart and we posted it on Instagram, they'd say something. I'm using them to highlight a specific issue about privilege. That's all._


	43. Broken

**Kurt gets melancholy trading out his old skates for his new ones, leading to a conversation with his boyfriend about life, the future ... and his mom.**

"Hey, babe! What'cha doin' with those relics?"

Kurt doesn't look at his boyfriend as he approaches, absorbed in the act of moving his old Arias out of his Zuca, trading them for one of the brand new pairs Riedell sent. Kurt still has to get them heat molded and sharpened, but it's the principle of the thing.

Out with the old and in with the new.

But in the midst of the transfer, he stopped to examine his old skates – the nicks in the leather, the scuff marks, the scratches on the blades, dulling their once mirror shine. Those marks are like the rings of a tree. Or scars. They tell the story of Kurt's road from obscurity to championship.

Now, he's retiring them.

Considering everything his skates have been through, everything they've done for him, it doesn't seem right to toss them in the trash, or store them in a box in his parent's musty old garage.

"Nothing. I was just looking at them." Kurt turns the skates over in his hands. They're not soft, but they're definitely not as rigid as they were when he first bought them. They make a crackling noise when he squeezes them, a visible crease forming where the ankle meets the foot of the boot.

"You did it." Sebastian takes Kurt's other boot and gives it a test squeeze. It's not as pliable as Kurt's right boot, seeing as that's his landing foot, but it's still thrashed. "You broke them."

"I did," Kurt says with a sad sort of triumph. "You know, as skaters, we go through a lot of skates. But this is the first time I've ever broken a pair."

"Really?" Sebastian puts the broken skate on the floor and takes a seat by his boyfriend's side.

"Yeah. I've grown out of a lot of skates, but they were still usable. I could pass them on to someone else who needed them. But these … they're completely done. I could take off the blades and donate them, but otherwise, no one else will ever be able to skate in these."

"You sound kind of bummed about that."

"I don't know. Melancholy, maybe?"

"Why?" Sebastian puts a hand on Kurt's knee and gives it a squeeze. "It's an awesome achievement."

Kurt chews his lower lip as he looks at his old skates, trying to come to grips with his feelings. He has so many of them, he doesn't know which to focus on first. It doesn't matter though. Giving over to any of them is going to turn him into a blubbering mess.

"When I was younger," he starts after a few false starts, "my mom was _really_ struggling with chemo, and I knew – I just _knew_ \- she was going to die …"

"But she didn't," Sebastian reminds him before the waterworks start.

"No," Kurt acknowledges. "She didn't. But eight-year-old me was scared out of my mind. I don't think I slept for close to a whole year."

Sebastian nods because there's nothing he can say to that. He's never been that afraid. No one in his life has ever been sick the way Kurt's mom has. He can't imagine what that kind of fear would feel like.

"I remember asking her what she would regret most when she passed away. I know," he says when he sees Sebastian's eyes pop with shock. "A little morbid for a kid."

"No." Sebastian takes his boyfriend's hand. "It's not morbid at all. It's natural for kids to be curious about death. Death is a terrifying thing."

"We lived with it hanging over our heads every day, but we didn't talk about it all that often. At least, my parents didn't talk about it in front of me. Anyway, my mom said that she would regret the things she left unfinished, which, at the time, were not seeing me grow up, graduate college, win a gold medal. She'd regret leaving my dad in the middle of their marriage, and making him raise a son alone. She'd … she'd regret never getting to go on a second honeymoon in Hawaii, or writing the memoir she'd always wanted to write …"

"Unfinished business," Sebastian picks up when Kurt's voice shakes. "I'd say that's a common regret."

"Over time, I made _her_ unfinished business _my_ unfinished business. All of those things she wanted to see me do, I _had_ to make them happen, and as fast as I could, because …" Kurt sniffles "… because she had a timer hanging over her head clicking down, and I couldn't stop it. So … so I had to make the team. And I had to win the medal. Because, if she didn't get to see it, none of it would matter. She'd leave this planet with regrets, never knowing ..."

"Oh, Kurt." Sebastian wraps his arms around him and holds him, tries hard to make everything alright for him within the confines of this one hug. He can't, of course. For Kurt, there will always be _this_ – the fear that this horrible disease will rise back up from the ashes and take his mom away from him too soon.

And he'll have failed.

"A lot of those things," Kurt says through tears, "I want to accomplish for _me_. But where I'm concerned, I don't have a deadline. Not like hers. I know that tomorrow isn't guaranteed, but my odds are a bit better than hers that I'll get one. Ironically, as hard as I work, it never occurred to me that I could _finish_ any of it today. Or tomorrow. Or this week, or this month. The goal posts sit out there in the distance, and I can see them. I know that I'll reach them eventually. But this …" he motions the broken skate in his hand "… proves I'm wrong. _This_ I finished. These skates are done. All that work, and winning that medal – this is the period at the end of that sentence. It _is_ possible."

"And that's _wonderful_!"

"But, for some reason, I feel like I don't go forward from here. I feel like I go back to the beginning. And it's a little daunting."

"Well, you're right," Sebastian says, earning him a confused side-eye from his boyfriend. "You _do_ go back to the beginning … where your skates are concerned, anyway." He unwinds one arm from Kurt's torso while he talks, reaching past him to an unopened box waiting patiently beside his Zuca to have its contents unpacked. Sebastian flips the lid open, moves the paper aside, opens a white satin bag, and pulls out one of Kurt's brand new skates. He holds it up for Kurt to see it – bright, spotless white leather, mounted on custom gold blades bearing Kurt's full name in elegant script along the outside. "But, from there, you go forward, the way you always have. And sure, it's hard at the beginning, and you struggle. But you work at it, day and night. And before you know it, you're going faster and jumping higher than ever before. And the best part about it is you don't have to go it alone. Because so many people believe in you. Me and your dad … and _Blaine_ …" Sebastian grinds his teeth around Blaine's name, and Kurt laughs, exactly the way Sebastian had hoped. "And your mom" - He pauses to kiss Kurt on the top of the head when he feels tears come to his own eyes - "who's fought tooth and nail to be there for you for as long as she can; to watch you climb to the top of the podium. To watch you _finish_." Kurt's breath hitches, his body leaning into Sebastian's as he hugs him tight. "And the people at Riedell," he adds, tempering the heavy with lighthearted teasing, "who sent you twenty-seven hundred dollars' worth of brand new skates with these obnoxious gold blades on them."

"You forget, I'm due a custom pair." Kurt reaches into the net bag on the side of his Zuca and grabs a small packet of tissues. "I intend on choosing gold faux alligator skin, with my initials on the ankles in Swarovski crystals, and black Matrix Elite blades."

"A-ha. And I'm going to walk five feet behind you everywhere you go when you wear them."

"You do anyway!" Kurt laughs. "To scope out my ass!"

"Then those tacky-ass skates aren't going to change anything, will they?"

Kurt pats his eyes and nose with a tissue as he watches Sebastian put the new skate back inside its satin bag, then slide that into his Zuca.

"Did you ever think, when you decided to be my coach, that you were going to be good at these pep talks?" Kurt asks. "Do you wing it, or …?"

"Meh." Sebastian shrugs, reaching for the second bag. "It's actually pretty easy once you get the hang of it. You just have to put yourself in the mindset of an 80s sit-com dad. After that, it becomes a breeze."

Kurt places his old skate beside the one Sebastian put on the floor. They look so shoddy compared to his new skates – so battered and old. "I feel like I should bury them or something. Build a small coffin, decorate it with rhinestones ..." Sebastian shoots him a glare that makes him snort. "We should hold a candlelight vigil at the very least."

"Hmm. We'll need mourners," Sebastian says because why not? If it makes Kurt feel better, let him hold a funeral for his skates. Actually, Sebastian knows a spot outside his rink where they could bury them – underneath the rose bush beside the front door. They could put a plaque above the spot: _Here lies the figure skates of skating champion Kurt Hummel – broken but not forgotten_. Sebastian's sentimental side (mostly crammed into three inches of his left shoulder blade) kind of likes the idea of them being memorialized there, seeing as skating is what brought the two of them together.

Kurt _was_ wearing those skates on the day Sebastian fell in love with him.

"We should invite Blaine. He'd cry."

"Yes, he would, but only because the situation requires it."

"But do you know the best way to honor your skates?"

Kurt shakes his head. "How?"

Sebastian lifts Kurt's other Aria into view. "By breaking in a new pair." He slides the second skate in along the first, tucks them in, and then zippers the bag shut. When he looks back at Kurt and sees his arched eyebrow, he says, "What?"

"I thought for sure you were going to say _by making out_. That does seem to be your solution to everything."

"We can do that, too," Sebastian says, carefully pushing Kurt's Zuca aside to pull his boyfriend down on top of him. "I mean, we should give it a try. It couldn't hurt."


	44. Killer Instinct

_**When Sebastian can't seem to get hyped before a big game, Kurt figures out a sure-fired way to bring his fighting spirit back.**_

"Are you _sure_ you're up to this?" Kurt asks, assessing Sebastian's pads through his jersey, straightening things that don't necessarily need straightening as he fusses over his mopey boyfriend. "Because you've been looking a little lackluster lately. I won't lie."

Sebastian frowns, but he can't deny that it's true. He doesn't know why. He should be hyped as all get out. This _is_ Nationals, after all. But for some reason, he's just not feeling it. "I know I have. You don't have to remind me. But I can't _not_ play. I'm the captain. My team needs me."

"Still. There's no harm in sitting this one out."

"Says you!" Sebastian scoffs. "I'd never live it down! Besides, there might be scouts in the crowd. You never know."

Kurt scans the bleachers, searching for anyone who might be a scout. Hockey scouts know how to blend in, so they're not easy to spot. You'd have to know who you're looking for. No one in particular stands out to Kurt, so he starts looking for something else that might get Sebastian pumped for the upcoming face-off – a banner cheering on the team, or a sign cheering on just him. Kurt would be willing to forgive some poor, lovesick teenager for making moony eyes at his boyfriend this once if it would lift Sebastian out of his funk. Kurt has done all he can in that arena. They bowed out of Friday night dinner with his folks early, parked by the lake, and made out for two straight hours, and it didn't lift Sebastian's spirits an inch.

Kurt had to admit, the blow to his ego was massive, but he had to shelf that and come up with a remedy for whatever was dulling Sebastian's killer instinct. Sebastian is a monster on the ice – a force to be reckoned with. Seeing him with his head bowed, staring down at his skates as he digs chunks out of the rubber floor with his freshly sharpened blades, breaks Kurt's heart.

The sound of a door lock clicking nearby drags Kurt's attention away from his boyfriend's pouty face to the row of locker rooms behind them. Kurt, Blaine, and Sebastian have been hanging in the penalty box on the visitor's side, waiting for warmups to start, so those locker rooms are being occupied by the enemy. The door to locker room number seven opens and a player peeks out – a tall boy with sandy blond hair, mussed from getting ready; piercing green eyes; a lean, muscular build; and lightly tanned skin.

Skin that Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine can see _very_ clearly, since he's standing not five feet away, _shirtless_.

He glances down the hallway in front of the door, then up towards the ice. When he sees the three boys looking his way, he nods at Sebastian, acknowledging a revival captain, then at Blaine. But Kurt – Kurt he locks eyes with. He looks him up and down, grins a devilish grin, then returns to the locker room, pulling the door behind him shut slowly, probably knowing that that will give his admirers a good, long look at his well-defined back.

The door clicks shut, and in the box, there's silence.

"W-wow," Blaine says, symbolically wiping drool off his chin. "He's uh …"

"Yeah?" Sebastian snaps. "He's _what_? Maybe kinda hot? So what!?" Sebastian turns to his boyfriend for backup, but he doesn't get it. Kurt isn't even looking at him, his eyes glued to the locker room door, a peculiar half-smile twisting the right side of his mouth.

"Uh …" A nervous Blaine looks at Sebastian, scowling at Blaine for no reason, then back to Kurt, praying that whatever's going on with him, he snaps out of it quick. "Earth to Kurt," he says, giving his friend's arm a shake. "Come in, Kurt."

"What?" Kurt giggles, snaking an arm around Sebastian's waist. "Oh, I'm sorry. I was just ... I was thinking."

"I bet," Sebastian growls, but surprisingly, he doesn't pull away.

In fact, he pulls his boyfriend closer.

"Not like _that_ ," Kurt says, interpreting Sebastian's unamused expression. "To be honest, he kind of reminds me of you."

"Well, _I'm_ right here."

"Yeah, but you have your pads on. He's _shirtless_."

"Westerville!" Coach Beiste bellows from the opposite penalty box. "On the ice! Let's go!"

The locker rooms on the other side of the rink open, and the Westerville team floods out. At the same time, the doors behind Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine open, and the visiting team heads for the ice. When that same blond boy comes back out, he's fully dressed sans helmet, and Kurt sighs in disappointment. But before he takes the ice, he meets Kurt's gaze again. He licks his lips and gives Kurt a wink. Sebastian's face instantly turns beet red, his head one more wink away from blowing straight off his neck. Blaine bites his lower lip, trying to stop a risky laugh from ever leaving his mouth. It's a tactic, Kurt knows. Even if that boy is gay, he has no interest in Kurt. Everyone within fifty miles of their rink knows that Kurt and Sebastian are together. And anyone who's played against Sebastian knows that he's incredibly competitive. That blond boy, showing off doing his edge drills, is trying to get a reaction out of Sebastian.

And from the fingers like iron rods curling into Kurt's jean covered hip, Kurt can tell that he's succeeded.

And _how_.

If that boy's not gay, Kurt has to commend his commitment to pissing Sebastian off.

Sebastian watches the boy as he carves half-moons on the ice, his eyes locked on his back like a grappling hook.

"What are you doing, Sebastian?" Blaine asks. "Shouldn't you get out there?"

"I'm trying to get a better look at his jersey," Sebastian mumbles, craning his neck side to side to see past the rest of his team. "His last name is … Anderson." Sebastian shoots a look Blaine's way. "Perfect."

"Smythe!" Beiste yells. "Get your butt in gear! Quit wasting our time!"

Sebastian looks at Kurt long and hard, his eyes lingering on Kurt's lips, as if he's contemplating kissing him. And even though Kurt has a huge issue with PDA most of the time, he'd let him. But Sebastian knows that now's not the time. He lets go of his boyfriend, vaults over the boards, and takes off before both blades touch the ice. Left alone in enemy territory, Kurt and Blaine make their way out of the penalty box and over to the home side of the rink.

"You _do_ realize you pretty much signed that poor guy's death warrant, right?" Blaine asks.

"Better him than you." They stop to watch both teams circle the ice then retreat to their respective sides. Sebastian stalks the other Anderson, fixing him with a death glare before Beiste calls him off. Kurt smirks. _That's_ the Sebastian he knows and loves. He'd feel guiltier about playing his boyfriend if Sebastian didn't make it so easy. "Besides, I see it as winning us a National championship."


	45. Out in the Elements

_**A/N: Suffering in the Ohio heat, Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine find themselves stuck outside with no relief in sight ...**_  
 _ **... and it's all Kurt's fault.**_

 _ **Notes: Makes a reference to 'Makeshift Constellations', just so you know.**_

"It's … so … _hot_!" Kurt moans, reaching out to his side in search of his bottle of Aquafina. He finds it, lying in the patch of sunlight they've been avoiding for the past two hours. His fingers wrap around its bone dry exterior, the water inside radiating heat through the plastic. Disgusted, he shoves it away. "Why is it so _hot_!?"

"Because it's summer" - Sebastian grabs his own ice cold and sweating bottle of water and surrenders it to his boyfriend – "and we live in the pit of hell."

"Why are we even out here?" Blaine grumbles, looking angrily from the pond in front of them and its lukewarm, algae-infested water, to the grass stretched out around them – or what _would_ be grass if it hadn't been scorched by the epic heat wave Ohio had been experiencing. Right now, it's prickly and brown, like the quills of a dead hedgehog. "We're _ice skaters_! We spend our time _indoors_! In the _cold_!"

"I blame your parents, Seb," Kurt mumbles, lips parched, refusing to part. "Why did they pick _this_ week to have your pool drained and cleaned?"

"Because they're living it up in a luxury resort in Italy, and have no idea how much we're suffering right now."

"True dat."

"Besides, I blame you, Kurt."

Kurt's head snaps to the side, hay-like spears of grass crunching loudly beneath him. " _Me_?"

"A-ha."

"Why _me_?"

"Because _you_ were the one who said that you wanted us to do stuff _other_ than skating!"

"What?" Kurt squints past the canopy of leaves overhead, their only protection from the burning sun, and focuses on the cloudless, blue sky. "When did I say that?"

"When haven't you said it?"

Kurt tries to roll his eyes, but they're so dry, they pretty much just stick to his eyelids. "Don't be dramatic. I think I only said it once."

"So you admit that you're the reason we're out here?"

"I admit to nothing. Besides, aren't you the one with a private bowling alley? _And_ a movie theater? I mean, we could be there, right? Watching _Black Panther_ in the ice cold a/c? That's something other than skating."

"True, but …"

"But what?" Kurt squints at his boyfriend. Sebastian is backlit, which puts the bulk of the sun right in Kurt's face, his obnoxious smirk finding its way through the spots of white in Kurt's vision.

"I wanted to see you in a swimsuit. You usually wear so many layers, I thought it would be a nice change." Sebastian rolls slowly through the humid air to a sitting position, and rises to his feet. By the time he's upright, he's covered in a sheen of perspiration secondary to the one already coating his skin. He wipes his hand dry on the leg of his board shorts, then reaches down to help Kurt up. "I'll admit, I was hoping you'd wear a Speedo, but I guess that job had to go to _Blaine_." He glares at Blaine, already on his feet, brushing dry grass off his legs. Blaine meets Sebastian's unamused expression and holds on, taking extra the time to adjust his skimpy, hip-hugging briefs, then tosses him a wink.

Sebastian scowls in disgust.

"That's incredibly sweet," Kurt coos, blowing his boyfriend an air kiss since it's too hot to get too close. "But if we don't get out of this heat soon, you'll be writing that on my tombstone."


	46. On Fire

_**After a long day of judging, Kurt and Sebastian are willing to do anything to break free ...**_  
 _ **... even throw a good friend under the bus.**_

 _"Next up – Trisha Bloomington!"_

Modest applause rings out around the bleachers as an adorable girl in a sparkly red dress makes her way to center ice, her gleaming white skates boxy at the end of her thin, hose-covered legs. She smiles proudly, arms held out straight, and slides to a stop. She poses, her toe pick stuck in the ice, her hip jutted out, her hands at her waist. She looks wobbly, a little nervous, but she doesn't let that get her down. After too long a pause that seems to precede all these performances, the music begins to play, and Trisha bunny hops away in the hopes of snagging first place.

 _This girl is on fire!_

Her performance only lasts two minutes, but to Sebastian, it's a lifetime.

"Oh God," he mutters, head dropping to his hands. "Kill me now."

"Be nice," Kurt says, circling Trisha's marks on his scoring sheet. "She's only six."

"I don't blame _her_ ," Sebastian says, circling two threes and a four for Trisha's required elements. "I really don't. I blame the lazy ass coaches who …"

"Shhh!" Kurt slaps a hand over his boyfriend's mouth just as one of the lazy ass coaches in question strolls by, peeking over their shoulders at the scoring sheets in front of them. Kurt nods and smiles, tightening his grip as Sebastian continues on with his tirade undeterred.

"Now, now, don't worry," Kurt says, slightly louder than necessary to assuage the coaches shooting dirty looks their way. "Each of these skaters are going to receive a fair score on their performance."

"Come on, Kurt! We've been here for _hours_!"

"We volunteered!"

" _You_ volunteered us! I've never done this before! I didn't know what I was in for! You're getting back at me for date night, aren't you? I thought shoving me in a giant snowman costume would have made us even, but I guess not." Sebastian shakes his head sadly, the poster boy for defeat. "You've got your skates with you, don't you?"

"Yeah?"

"Then here." Sebastian tugs down his collar and taps the skin of his neck with his index finger. "Toe pick. Go straight for the jugular."

"Sebastian!"

"Just make it quick. I don't want to send any of these kids into therapy."

"Pfft. And you say _I'm_ a drama queen." Kurt pops his head up, searching the crowd clustered in front of the rink's double doors. He's been keeping an eye peeled for the past hour. It's difficult to spot any one person with the amount of people gathered around the edge of the rink, eager to see their kids perform, then get their asses out as quickly as possible. Kurt can't blame them. Every competition they host runs between fifteen minutes to an hour behind schedule without exception. It's worse for the parents whose kids compete in more than one event. Depending on the category, they can be spread hours apart.

Kurt can tell the veteran parents from the newbies. The veterans are the ones dressed in sweats and sneakers instead of their Sunday best, wrapped in three layers of blankets, and lugging around suitcases the size of a mini fridge, filled to bursting with everything from hairspray to spare costumes, ready to head off any catastrophe.

Between performances, the crowd shifts, and Kurt sees Blaine walk in. He catches Kurt's eye and waves, his face lighting up immediately the way it always does when he sees his best friend. Kurt smiles as Blaine rushes over, a cold knot of guilt tying his stomach for what he's about to do to him.

"Besides, while you were busy complaining, I called in reinforcements."

"What? Oh …" Sebastian groans when he sees Blaine gallop over. "So is Mr. Wonderful going to join us?"

"No. He's going to replace us. Hey!" Kurt leaps out of his seat and wraps his arms around Blaine, hugging him tight. "Thank _God_ you're here!"

"How are you guys holding up?" Blaine's gaze passes over Kurt to Sebastian, who seems to have melted into the judges' table.

"Not good, I'm afraid. I hate to do this to you, but can you tag us out? I'm beginning to see double, and I'm pretty sure Sebastian's brains have started leaking out his ears." Kurt moves behind Sebastian and begins rubbing his shoulders. Sebastian moans pitifully. "You won't be alone. Chandler got here before you. He'll be scoring from the bleachers." Kurt points over the heads on their right to where Chandler is setting up a small folding table in an area roped off from spectators and parents.

"Sure, sure. No problem," Blaine says, taking Kurt's seat at the table. "Anything to help out as part of _Team Ice-plex_." (That remark, and the giddiness in Blaine's tone, makes Sebastian moan louder, and Kurt smacks him on the shoulder to shut him up. Blaine has never been part of a team. At his old ice rink, he pretty much kept to himself – more his parents' doing than his own. But he's thrilled to be a part of theirs. He says that being part of something special makes him feel special. Personally, Sebastian prefers being a team of one. Well, two, as long as he has Kurt. But if he never judges another competition, he'll count his blessings.) "Just tell me what I have to do."

"It's really no big deal," Kurt explains. "Each performer has their own sheet. It lists the elements they're required to perform, and you score them from one to four. Four means it was perfect. One means at least they tried. They get a strike if they skip it entirely. The only group left is pre-alpha tots, so it shouldn't be that hard. They only need to perform about five elements each. Here, I'll show you …"

 _"Next up – Pamela Moebs!"_

Kurt and Blaine both look up as the next skater steps on the ice. She beams at the audience, her smile wider than she is tall, her teeth glowing white within a frame of dark, crimson lips. She cocks her right hip, stretches her arms over her head, and waits for her music to start.

 _This girl is on fire!_

Blaine perks up, smiling almost as wide as Pamela. Sebastian pulls the collar of his jacket up to his ears and mumbles incoherently.

"I love this song!" Blaine says as Kurt shows him how to mark off the scoring sheet. Bunny hops? Perfect. Forward swivels? Also perfect. Crossovers? Close. A three.

"That's good," Sebastian says, hastily finishing up his own sheet, then grabbing his gear bag, "because they're _all_ doing it."

"What?" Blaine looks up as the song comes to an abrupt end. Pamela poses triumphantly on the ice as her parents scream like maniacs from the sidelines, and Blaine takes a good look at her. She's dressed in a fire-themed costume, her face done up in red eyeshadow and lipstick similar to the girl before her. As Pamela turns to make her exit, Blaine can see past her to the next girl waiting in the wings. She, too, is wearing a red dress with flames, red eyeshadow, and bright red lipstick. "What do you mean _they're all doing it_?"

"To save money on music licensing, the coaches from the Youngstown Ice Arena pick one song for their pre-alpha tots and they all skate to it."

 _"Next up – Morgan Conner-Grieves!"_

Same as with Pamela, and Trisha before her, Morgan slides to a stop, strikes an empowering pose, and then her music starts.

 _This girl is on fire!_

Sebastian points an index finger skyward. "This year it's this one."

"How many pre-alpha tots are there?" Blaine asks, rushing to catch up with his scoring sheet while keeping one eye on his retreating friends.

"A … a couple," Kurt says sheepishly as Sebastian pulls him away.

"How many's a couple?"

"Fifty-two," Sebastian replies unapologetically.

"Fifty-two!" Blaine squeaks, nearly losing his pen. Fifty-two skaters performing for two minutes each … that means he's going to hear the same snippet of that song for the next hour and forty-four minutes! Oh, wait. Didn't Kurt's text say something about them running behind!? "How many have performed already?" _Say twenty_ , Blaine begs silently. _Please say they're almost halfway through!_

"Uh … seven, I think?"

Blaine's shoulders fall, and Sebastian hears Kurt gasp as his conscience catches up with him. Sebastian is proud of Kurt for trying, at least, but he's too compassionate a human being to dump and run on anyone, especially not Blaine.

So Sebastian steps up.

He pushes Kurt behind him lest Blaine's puppy dog eyes manage to make his sympathetic boyfriend change his mind. Sebastian might feel bad, too, if his ears weren't beginning to bleed. "Bye, Blaine."

"Thank you so much for this!" Kurt says, but since he hasn't moved more than half a foot during this whole conversation, Sebastian breaks down and lifts his reluctant boyfriend off his feet. "I don't know how we'll replay you! Call us when you're done, we'll go out to dinner. Bye!"

 _This girl is on fire!_

"And thank you," Sebastian calls to a distracted Blaine with Kurt wriggling over his shoulder, "for being a dedicated member of Team Ice-plex."


	47. Prom-posal

_**Kurt, Sebastian, and Blaine are at the rink to witness a time-honored tradition.**_

"Madison! Maddy! _Whoa_ … can I … can I talk to you a second? Oops! Make way! Make way! I'm so sorry, but I can't stop!"

Sebastian cringes as he sees a boy, roughly about his age, wearing a button-down shirt and blue jeans, attempting to navigate the ice in rental hockey skates, wobbly knees and ankles bent, carrying a bouquet of flowers in one hand and a wrapped present in the other. He's doing his best to skate/walk to center ice, tripping and nearly landing on his face three times in a row when a toddler with an EZ Skater crosses his path, then again when a figure skater twirls by.

"Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" Kurt slides to a stop beside his boyfriend. "I can't believe he's _actually_ going through with it!"

"Going through with what?" Blaine asks.

"It's prom-posal season," Sebastian groans, watching as the boy inches his way across the ice almost entirely on his ankles now, the goofiest smile in the world on his rapidly blushing face, risking life and limb to reach the gaggle of tittering teenagers waiting for him in dead center – Madison McCarthy, along with her brother Mason, and Jane, as well as five of their synchro team students, watching with pre-teen heart eyes aglow. "We get a few dorks like him every year about this time."

" _I_ think it's sweet." Kurt counters Sebastian's grimace with a kiss on the cheek. Sebastian smiles in spite of himself, but it doesn't keep him from rolling his eyes. "They bring flowers and balloons. Sometimes they even sing! The best part about it is that nine times out of ten, these guys can't skate to save their lives, so you know they really have to like the girl if they're willing to publicly embarrass themselves this way. One guy last year came out on the ice dressed in a _tuxedo_ to ask one of our competition skaters to the prom."

"Wow." Blaine rests his hands on the shoulders of the beginner skater he'd been teaching, who seems more than happy to take a five minute break from conquering fishies to watch the action on the ice unfold. "Did she say yes? What happened?"

"He fell backwards and took a rather nasty hit to the head," Kurt says.

"I remember that! There was blood everywhere!" Sebastian snorts. "Man, that guy was a total tool – cursing at the pre-tots and everything when we wouldn't drop everything to help his ass up! Got what he deserved if you ask me – _stuck up rich kid_."

"Meanwhile," Kurt continues, shaking his head at his beloved pot calling a kettle black, " _she_ went on to pass her Moves in the Field tests, win three gold medals, and got accepted to Harvard."

"Well, as long as it worked out." Blaine snickers when Madison attempts to meet the boy halfway but her brother and Jane hold her back with the synchro skaters, outstretched arms locked together, forming a blockade in front of her. Blaine assumes making it to the center unaided must be some sort of rite of passage.

If you can't make it to the middle, you don't deserve a _yes_.

He just hopes this guy doesn't end up flat on his back with a crack in his skull. He seems nice.

The boy stops for a moment, his ankles probably throbbing, but the small crowd of onlookers start cheering him on, yelling, "Go! Go! Go! Go!" as he repositions the flowers and the gift, and starts walking again. Some of the junior coaches know his name, and start a cry of, "Josh! Josh! Josh! Josh!" which echoes around the rink.

"Madison! Madison McCarthy!" Josh calls, out of breath and laughing at himself. At ninety percent of the way there, he decides to go for broke. "Will you … whoa!" Kurt gasps as Josh spins completely around, steadying himself at the last minute. "Whoa … okay! _Will you go to the prom with me_?"

"Yes! Yes, I will!" Madison squirms away from her brother and Jane, breaks through the synchro skaters, and reaches Josh seconds before his feet fly out from under him. It happens as if in slow motion - Josh catching air and going horizontal before he crashes to the ice on his tail bone. He manages to keep his head elevated and his offerings from being crushed beneath him, but the sound his body makes when he lands is enough to make the entire rink let out a combined exclamation of, " _Ooooo_!"

The pain doesn't seem to matter to Josh as he embraces Madison to an enthusiastic round of applause.

"So?" Kurt asks, looking at his boyfriend, who's been completely invested in the ending of this saga since Josh stepped on the ice.

"Okay, okay, you're right," Sebastian concedes, wrapping his arms around Kurt from behind as they watch the happy couple. "That was kind of cute."

"Hmm, I thought so." Kurt sighs, watching his crying friend kiss her smiling date, who doesn't seem too eager to get up. Actually … he doesn't seem _able_ to get up. He props up on an elbow in an attempt to roll over, winces, then gives up and stays on his back. "Uh … I think we should call an ambulance."

Blaine, cell phone already to his ear, says, "I'm on it."


	48. Consolation Prize

**Kurt spends his afternoon with a nervous Harmony as she embarks on her first ever skating competition. But no matter what place she takes, it might not be enough to soothe the sting of something else she's at risk of losing.**

"C-coach … Coach Hummel?"

"Yes, Harmony?"

"I … I don't think I can do this," she says, pinching her crimson lips so tightly together it makes her mouth look like a thin slash welling blood. "I think … I think I'm going to be sick."

"Well, if you're going to be sick, better do it now," Sebastian suggests, rolling his shoulders as he prepares to warm up. "You're going to lose big points if you hork on the ice."

"Harmony, we talked about this." Kurt puts his hands on her shoulders and steers her away from his insensitive boyfriend. "There's nothing to be afraid of. You can do this. You've been practicing this routine for weeks! You could perform it in your sleep!"

"Yeah, but …" She glances over at the bleachers, each row packed with friends and family of every skater competing today. Her mother is in there somewhere. So is her dad … the two of them sitting seventy miles apart. Knowing that doesn't make this situation any easier "… there are _so_ many people here. And they're all going to be watching me. _Judging_ me."

"Harmony! You're the lead soloist of one of the most celebrated show choirs in Ohio!" Kurt reminds her with only the barest hint of an eye roll. "You perform in front of crowds much bigger than this!"

"That's _different_! That's singing and dancing! I've been doing that since I was a _fetus_!"

"This is dancing, too."

"On ice! Wearing stiff boots and knives! Plus, I only started about three weeks ago! Whatever made me think competing would be a good idea?"

"You've gotten so much better in that time."

"I haven't landed a single waltz jump, my bunny hops suck, and my scratch spin is basically a half-circle!" A sudden burst of applause pulls their attention to the ice, where an impish little girl in an elaborately bedazzled purple dress enters a flawless spiral with a confident grin on her face. "There are seven-year-olds here landing Axels! I'm going to be humiliated!"

"Pfft!" Sebastian walks over, bored of warming up by himself. "None of that's going to matter."

Harmony can't look away from the ice, away from the child in the sparkly dress performing an effortless sit-spin, but she catches his eyes through the reflection in the glass. "Why … why not?"

"Because, you're competing against …"

"Because you have so much presence," Kurt interrupts loudly, doing his best to drown out his clueless boyfriend, "no one's going to care about any of that. They're not going to notice any teeny tiny mistakes you might make. They're going to see _you_ , with your big smile, you're beautiful eyes, and your stunning dress, and you're going to win them over, the same way you do on stage!"

"You … you think so?" Harmony asks, forgetting about whatever it was that Sebastian way trying to tell her. Kurt takes Harmony's hands and squeezes them gently.

"I _know_ so."

 _"Up next, competing in event 17 – Harmony Clarke!"_

Harmony's eyes widen. She didn't even notice that the other skater's song had finished. She could have sworn there was one more performance in between. They must have scratched, Harmony realizes, and the thin line of red that is her mouth disappears completely. "I think I'm going to be sick," she whimpers.

"Don't worry, and don't panic." Kurt takes Harmony's hand and leads her to the ice. "No matter what happens, smile big. Focus on keeping your shoulders straight and your posture on lock, and everything else will fall into place."

"O-okay." She nods, taking the blockers off her blades and placing them on the ledge. She looks green as she puts one foot on the ice, but she plasters on her brightest smile, raises her hands into the air, and enters the arena.

"Go get 'em, girl!" Sebastian calls, clapping his hands.

"My God, she's nervous," Kurt comments when Harmony strikes her beginning pose, her right leg trembling as if it's about to vibrate off her body. "I didn't think she'd be _this_ nervous."

"Yup. But she's going to get first place anyway."

"Yes, she will."

Sebastian takes a break from his halfhearted warming up to wrap his arms around Kurt's shoulders, keeping him anchored as he shudders on Harmony's behalf. "So, you didn't tell her that she's going to get first place anyway because she's the only skater competing in her division?"

"No," Kurt answers, wincing when Harmony trips over her toe pick during her first line of bunny hops and almost takes a knee.

"Why not? It might have made her less nervous."

"I thought of that …" Kurt flinches as Harmony's first attempt at a waltz jump puts her on her behind "… but it also might make it seem like her hard work doesn't matter, that we could have spent the past few weeks watching 'The Great British Bake Off' instead of busting our butts here every day." Harmony enters her first spin but doesn't get too far, going about three-quarters of the way round before she slows to a halt, forcing her to complete the turn by awkwardly marching the remainder of the distance. "Besides, Harmony's the kind of person who performs best under pressure. I thought that if she didn't know, it might help her pull it together at the last minute." Harmony tosses in an unplanned spin. She gives it her all, whipping her arms around to produce the momentum to carry her through one rotation. It doesn't work, and this time, she does take a knee. Kurt gasps. "Apparently not."

"But she performs for a living," Sebastian says. "She knows how judging works. She'll figure it out."

"I know she will, but she hasn't just yet. Let's keep the magic alive for a little while longer." Kurt's gaze moves away from his floundering skater and falls on Harmony's mom, sitting not too far from them, then to her dad, who found a seat in the far back. Kurt shakes his head. He realizes things are strained between them right now, but he's disappointed they couldn't get their acts together for one stinking afternoon.

Today isn't about their marriage. It's about their _daughter_.

Kurt looks back at the ice in time to see Harmony finish, snowplow stopping in the center of the rink with her arms raised; breathing heavily as if she just finished running a marathon; her smile, bright enough to cure cancer, back on her face in a last ditch effort to win over the judges.

 _"Let's hear a round of applause for Miss Harmony Clarke!"_

"You did it!" Kurt cheers, waiting with arms open for Harmony to glide carefully off the ice.

"Yeah, but I fell. A _lot_ ," she mutters, putting her blockers back on her blades.

"As long as you didn't get hurt, that's all that counts."

"Well, when I can feel my butt again, I'll let you know."

 _"Will the skaters for events 18 through 25, please take the ice and begin your warm up!"_

"How long do you think we'll have to wait for my results?"

"Something tells me not too long," Sebastian mumbles, but seeing as Harmony doesn't seem to hear him, Kurt resists the urge to elbow him in the ribs. As the next group of performers takes to the ice, the announcer's voice returns, booming over the music.

 _"The results for event 17 … in first place, Harmony Clarke!"_

Applause rises in the rink. A few spectators nearby congratulate Harmony. Kurt claps his stunned skater on the shoulder.

"See!? I told you you could do it!"

"Yeah," Sebastian adds, giving her a light, playful punch on the upper arm. "Good job."

Harmony blinks, staring blankly at Kurt and Sebastian, going over her performance in her head – the falls, the spins that ended abruptly, the tripping that resulted in her lack of posture, the edges that went neutral when they shouldn't have. Her jaw drops. "I have … so many questions."

Out of the corner of Kurt's eye, he sees Harmony's parents head over - bone stiff, keeping more than two arm lengths apart, ignoring one another so obscenely that the temperature in the rink drops about ten degrees. Kurt sighs. Why today of all days? Can't they shelve the crap and act like parents for one frickin' day? For Harmony's sake?

"It's okay, sweetie," Kurt says preemptively, draping Harmony's practice jacket over her shoulders and giving her a hug. "Just … remember to enjoy your trophy."


	49. Spooktastic

**Summary:** **Sebastian fantasizes about Kurt showing up at the rink in the costume of his dreams.**

 **And he does, but that depends on the type of dream ...**

 **Notes:** **For those of you who will inevitably ask, yes, we had someone dressed in a giant lavender inflatable unicorn at our rink this Halloween xD**

* * *

"A bloody hockey mask?" Blaine snickers, sliding to a stop with enough force to spray Sebastian's skates with snow. "As far as Halloween costumes go, isn't that a little too on the nose for you?"

"What are you talking about?" Sebastian raises the red streaked and busted mask so Blaine can hear him clearly. "I'm not wearing a costume."

"A-ha. Okay, Captain Edgy," Blaine says rolling his eyes.

Sebastian doesn't defend his costume choice. Easy is as easy does, and he'd rather be on the ice than wasting his time dressing up. He knows he copped out. So what that his costume is a little low maintenance? He doesn't want to admit that he's not into the gory side of Halloween. It's a carefully guarded secret (so guarded, not even Kurt knows) that he hangs out at the rink and coaches on Halloween because blood and gut costumes freak him out – a residual fear from an episode years ago when Sebastian, alone at home while his folks were off on another of many 'important' business trips, decided to spend Halloween in his parent's wine cellar watching every horror movie the satellite TV could pick up.

After the fifth movie, he'd wanted to call it quits, but he couldn't bring himself to walk through the cold, dark cellar upstairs to the main house, so he hunkered down under the blankets he had brought with him and stayed there, eyes wide open, watching cartoons on repeat till his uncle came home in the morning.

Three straight nights of zero sleep followed, and he swore he'd never watch another horror flick again.

The rink goes all out on Halloween to give kids a safe place to Trick or Treat and enjoy themselves. The kids who attend more or less stick to store bought, cutesy costumes that are easy to skate in, so Sebastian's hockey mask is pretty much the grossest thing out on the ice.

"What about you?" Sebastian gestures to Blaine's gelled hair, his leather jacket, and his tighter than necessary (especially for skating) jeans. "You dressed like _Elvis_?"

"What?" Blaine looks down at his clothes, then back at Sebastian and grins. "I'm not wearing a costume."

Sebastian scowls, but then bounces his head in agreement. "You're right. I don't think you _are_ wearing a costume."

"Hey! Have any of you guys seen Kurt? He's supposed to check in by now," Chandler asks, skating over with roster in hand, and wearing a giant, inflatable, lavender unicorn costume. Blaine, Sebastian, and the other coaches with them can't help chuckling every time he waddles over. The consensus is it's literally the most ridiculous thing anyone has ever seen.

But the kids love it so, in that respect, Chandler wins coach of the month.

Sebastian is grateful Chandler has the skating skills to keep him upright in that thing. It would suck to have to pick him up off the ice every five feet.

"I haven't seen him yet," Blaine answers, which annoys Sebastian thoroughly. In Kurt matters, Sebastian should _always_ get the first say.

"He didn't come to the rink with us," Sebastian adds when Chandler looks at him with confusion. "He was still working on his costume when we left. He said he wanted it to be a surprise."

"Ooo la la!" Chandler coos, grinning behind the clear panel in the unicorn's chest that allows him to see. "I can't _wait_ to see what he comes up with this year! He has the best skating outfits on the ice. His Halloween costume must be _epic_!"

"Yeah," Sebastian mutters dreamily, biting his lower lip and imagining the kind of costume his boyfriend might have come up with. Like Blaine, he favors tight shirts, even tighter pants, and dramatic makeup, which Sebastian never thought for the life of him would be a thing that would get his engine going. Makeup on boys seemed unnatural to him - a desperate cry for attention. But after seeing the looks Kurt comes up with, _boy_ has Sebastian changed his mind! And not just about Kurt. About every boy who wears makeup. It never dawned on Sebastian how freeing makeup could be, how expressive, how unique.

And in Kurt's case, how _erotic_.

Quite a one-eighty for a boy who never thought he'd date in high school, not to mention Ice Queen Kurt Hummel.

Sebastian can picture Kurt dressing up as a fox in a sleek velvet bodysuit with a fluffy tail. Or an elf, Lord of the Rings style - regal and strong in a tailored tunic and silver-blond wig. Or maybe something with Spanish flair, like a flamenco dancer or a Matador. (Kurt's been really into Ricky Martin lately …. obnoxiously so …) Another coach on the ice is dressed as a peacock – teal blue spandex unitard covered in crystals and sequins, with a full tail of feathers attached to the rear that shimmies when she skates. Sebastian can see Kurt rocking that look, no question. That shade of blue would make his eyes pop.

And that fan of feathers would make his ass look fantastic!

Sebastian shifts from skate to skate, becoming antsy as images of his boyfriend in sexy Halloween costumes flood his brain, some of them as unoriginal as a box of bricks - sexy doctor, sexy lit professor, sexy crossing guard. But that wouldn't matter, because on Kurt, a burlap potato sack would look hot as hell. Sebastian doesn't think Kurt would opt for store bought though. Whatever he's come up with has to be glamorous, elaborate, and bedazzled within an inch of his life. But if he shows up dressed as a sexy police officer, wearing aviator shades and carrying handcuffs, they may have to take off their skates and call it a night, because Sebastian wouldn't be able to stop tripping over his tongue.

"Uh … Sebastian? Are you in there? Are you still with us?" Blaine says, waving his fingers in front of Sebastian's eyes. Sebastian went catatonic the second Chandler mentioned Kurt's costume, staring off into space and licking his lips as if he's daydreaming about his favorite ice cream flavor. Blaine can't help envying Sebastian's relationship with Kurt. He does every single day.

Watching tough guy Sebastian Smythe drool over his boyfriend is too jealousy-inducing for words.

Sebastian shakes his head, snapping out of his stupor as a whiff of Blaine's aftershave invades his nostrils with its overpowering scent of 'tree'. "Ugh," he groans, turning his head and scanning the rink, jumping from costume to costume, searching for his boyfriend. "Can you lay off the cologne a bit? I know it might be too late for you, but I want to keep my brain cells."

"Fuck you, too, dude."

Blaine spots him first. Of course he does. Sebastian knows Blaine sees him by the way his stupid eyes grow wider and wider until they take up three-quarters of his face, squeezing his mouth down to the vicinity of his chin.

"Oh … my … God …" Blaine chuckles, eyes darting from behind Sebastian's back to his face. "Hi, Kurt."

"Hello, boys."

Sebastian hears his boyfriend's voice and he smiles. His man is here. His moment has arrived. Sebastian glares at Blaine, who's already backing away, a look on his face that Sebastian doesn't know how to interpret.

"I think I'll just … go this way." Blaine laughs into his hand as he joins a small group of starter tots on center ice.

"See that you do," Sebastian says, glad that, for once, Blaine can take a hint and skedaddle. He feels Kurt's hands slide up his arms to his shoulders, caressing gently from behind. He can't see Kurt's hands, but that's okay. He doesn't want to see anything that will give Kurt's costume away before he can turn around and get the full effect.

Sebastian tilts his head to talk over his shoulder. "Hello, handsome."

Kurt drops a subtle kiss onto Sebastian's ear. "Hello, yourself. So, what do you think of my costume?"

"I haven't seen it yet," Sebastian teases.

"Oh," Kurt says, probably assuming Sebastian had caught a glimpse in the reflection of the windows as he approached. "Well, turn around and take a look."

Sebastian doesn't need to be told twice. He spins around with the enthusiasm of a kid hoping for a bike on his birthday but expecting a car. He's prepared to see Kurt in skin tight spandex of some variety, with a wicked cat's eye liner, and cheekbones contoured to cut glass. Kurt probably shimmers like a disco ball, a God in Swarovski crystals and mesh paneling.

It takes a few moments of staring, blinking, and gaping to comprehend the look that Kurt has put together.

When Sebastian does, he recoils.

"Oh my God, Kurt!" he squawks, stumbling backward over his heels and falling on his ass. "What the … _what are you_!?"

"I'm a zombie!" Kurt raises his arms and turns on his toe picks to give Sebastian a look at the final product.

"A zom-wha- _what_?" Sebastian's eyes work overtime racing up and down Kurt's body – the filthy rags hanging off his limbs, gaping holes torn through the fabric; his skin greying and ashen, the makeup done (brilliantly, Sebastian has to admit) to make his eyes and cheeks look sunken and rotting; his hair darkened and plastered to his skull. Considering how voluminous his hair normally is, it must have taken gobs of product to get it flat like this. Then there's the blood - thick, black, greasy blood crusting at the corners of his mouth, leaking from his eyes, oozing out his ears and nose. He'd glued pieces of organs bulging from cracks in the exposed sections of his torso, a fractured bone splitting the skin of his forearm.

This look, so far removed from his usual makeup creations, definitely showcases the incredible talent of Kurt Hummel. It could have been done by a professional effects artist, it's that detailed.

And it's repulsive!

"Why would you wear _that_?" Sebastian cries, scooting backward to keep his boyfriend at arm's length.

"Duh! It's _Halloween_!" Kurt giggles. "It's not like it's Christmas or the fourth of July! We're supposed to dress scary! You're wearing a bloody hockey mask!"

A hundred remarks flash through Sebastian's brain, but he can't get a single one past his tongue, not with his boyfriend standing above him looking exactly like a putrid corpse! It's not Kurt's fault. Sebastian never told him how much ghouls and spooks and zombies terrify him. Still, he never pictured Kurt going full out gore for Halloween, not in a million years. Sebastian plans to tell him as soon as he can get Kurt alone, but that's provided he takes that makeup off first. But Sebastian can't ask Kurt to do that. It must have taken _ages_ to do! He has to find a middle ground. He glances with his eyes from side to side until he finds what he's looking for.

"Uh, I've got to … there's somewhere … I'm going to the locker room," Sebastian says, scrambling to his feet. "But, uh … I'm going to text you, so keep your phone on. Okay?"

 _Yeah. That's it. He'll text him an explanation. Through a locked door from fifty feet away! Not like that's lame or anything._

"Come on, Sebastian." Kurt puckers black, broken lips and obliviously gives chase. "Stop playing hard to get and give me a kiss!"

"Nope. No. No way, no how!" Sebastian says, crawling on his hands and knees when he finds he can't stand, clawing at the ice to evade his boyfriend. "Kurt! Get away from me, Kurt, or I'm gonna cancel my ten o'clock!"


	50. The Nightmare Before Christmas

**Another Christmas skating show, and Kurt has poor Sebastian shoved into another inflatable snowman costume. But when Sebastian hears Kurt's reasons, he may not exactly hate it.**

"I'm a star athlete you know, Kurt," Sebastian grumbles as his boyfriend, too gleefully, adjusts his costume."

"I know," Kurt answers.

"Some might even say I'm handsome, too."

"You are. _Very_ handsome."

"More handsome than Blaine?"

"That's an opinion held by many, yes."

The audience roars with applause as Blaine lands one of his signature effortless triple combinations, and a grumpy Sebastian flails his stubby arms. "Then how come _he_ gets to play the prince, and I'm stuck as the frickin' snowman for _the second year in a row_!?"

"Because last year's Christmas show had the highest audience turn-out of any Christmas show this rink has ever put on!" Kurt says, shaking Sebastian to get his full attention. "And do you know _why_?"

"Because of Prince Sex-on-a-stick-and-skates-like-a-dream out there pulling triple after triple out his ass?"

Kurt stares at his boyfriend, eyebrow raised at that very specific, descriptive, and not exactly insulting moniker. "No, silly! Because everyone loved seeing _you_ play the big, lovable, goofy snowman!"

"Great," Sebastian moans, staring at his skates. "So me making a fool out of myself made the skating school money. Nice to know I've found my true purpose in life."

"Could you stop being so negative there, Frosty?" Kurt says, straightening Sebastian's mile-long scarf for the hundredth time. "No one came to the show last year to see you make a fool of yourself." Kurt looks into Sebastian's face when he notices him tapping the toe of his skate. He's met with a crooked scowl and Sebastian's sad attempt at crossing arms over his chest. Sebastian only succeeds in moving his limbs vaguely with that intention before dropping them angrily to his sides. "Okay," Kurt concedes, "maybe _some_ of them did. But they came the second night because they finally got to see the part of you that isn't all sarcastic remarks and vicious insults. They glimpsed the gooey center inside your hard, crusty exterior, and they wanted more. So, that's what we're giving them."

"Yeah?" Sebastian asks, thinking Kurt's words over, a smidgen of doubt pulling down the corners of his mouth. "Well … why couldn't you think up something _else_ goofy for me to be that isn't shoved into a giant, inflatable monstrosity? Like a lovable anti-hero? Like Deadpool!"

"Deadpool!? Sebastian! We're doing a Disney medley!"

"Disney owns Marvel now. Ergo, they own Deadpool. I know you know this because you follow Ryan Reynolds on Instagram."

"Sebastian …"

"It would be great, Kurt!" Sebastian continues, carried away on the wings of his own incredible idea. "Blaine's Prince Eric will rescue Ariel, but then I can enter the ice, stab him through the stomach, and rescue her back!"

"Sebastian!" Kurt snaps in that voice that calls Sebastian down out of the rafters when he's wandered off too far.

"What?" he whines, knowing full well that his dream of being _the merc with a mouth,_ who gets to slay Blaine, finishing him off with a breathtaking back flip, and rekindling his reputation as a skating bad ass, will never be.

"I … I didn't want to tell you this, seeing as this is a family show and all …" Kurt bites his lower lip, smiling wickedly at his dejected boyfriend, "but I happen to think that you in this costume … are kind of _hot_."

This time _Sebastian_ stares at his boyfriend with a raised eyebrow of disbelief. But watching Kurt trace the lines of his costume with gentle fingertips, chewing that lower lip of his like it's Sebastian's own earlobe, he can't help but believe him … no matter how ludicrous he sounds. "Really?"

"Uh-huh …" Kurt circles his arms around Sebastian's waist, tugging him carefully into a corner with little light and no traffic.

"Why?"

"I … I don't know why," Kurt admits with a giggle. "I don't know if it's because it's so puffy and soft, or because … you know … it's Christmas-y, and everything about Christmas fills me with joy. I just …"

Kurt's sentence dissolves into contented hums and, for once, Sebastian has no idea how to react. He never thought about his costume that way. If he had, it probably would have killed every boner he's ever had since the beginning of puberty. But seeing the gleam dancing in Kurt's eyes as he nuzzles against him makes Sebastian thankful that this costume is as massive as it is, since the hard-on he has would definitely be visible from the nosebleed seats.

He still thinks Kurt should give seeing him in a Deadpool costume a chance, but he's not going to mention it and risk breaking the mood.

Sebastian tries to close the gap between them, tries with all his might to reach his boyfriend past his bulbous body, but the more he crowds Kurt, the more he begins to deflate. If he deflates too much, it'll take forever to re-inflate him. That's why they get him dressed an hour in advance.

Sebastian doesn't really give a shit if he goes on the ice a few pounds light and with a flaccid top hat, but he wants to keep whatever fire this costume sparks inside Kurt going until the show's over, when he can drag him into the locker room for an unscheduled after-hours make-out.

"You know, I may not be a master thespian," Sebastian whispers, sliding away from Kurt to allow his bottom to re-inflate, but managing to get close enough to his face to ghost kisses around his lips, "but I do have more artistic range than _bloated ice person_."

"I know." With a whimper, Kurt breaks away from his boyfriend and leads him to the ice so he won't miss his cue. "That's why, next year, you're playing a _tree_."


	51. Some Things Change, Some Stay the Same

**Sebastian takes Kurt to California to share with him one of his favorite Christmas traditions, only to find out that some things aren't the same as they used to be.**

"Ugh," Kurt moans, pulling out of a flawless scratch spin that received a round of applause (and a few Instagram posts) from enthusiastic public skaters, but also doused his jeans with salt water. "I am … uncomfortably moist."

"I am so sorry, Kurt." Sebastian sighs, watching his boyfriend brush fruitlessly at his stained denim. "It's not usually like this."

Kurt gives the calves of his jeans a few more hard swats before giving up. "Who thought putting an ice rink on the beach was a good idea in the first place? I mean, it's eighty degrees outside!"

"Skating by the Sea is a San Diego tradition," Sebastian explains, looking forlornly over his shoulder at the Hotel del Coronado, rising statuesquely out of the cinnamon-and-sugar sand and up to the sky. He scans the beach, past the couples walking hand in hand, enjoying the warm winter evening, down to the crashing waves, where a handful of brave kids savor what they can before they need to go indoors. The sun has just started its decent into the water, painting the horizon a rosy gold. The high clouds have caught that shade, carrying it along as the drift overhead. It's positively picturesque, like straight off a postcard from the hotel lobby, skating outdoors with this gorgeous view of the Pacific. It's unlike any experience (he'd hoped) that Kurt has ever had before.

A perfect way to spend their anniversary. Symbolic even. This peaceful rink, the quiet solitude of skating that they both appreciate and respect, within walking distance of the turbulent, powerful ocean. It could be a metaphor for where they began, and where they ended up, both as skaters and boyfriends.

Or jet lag and overall holiday melancholy might be getting to him.

Sebastian came here every Christmas as a kid, when his parents' business took them to the West Coast and they were still at that stage of parenthood where they felt guilty leaving Sebastian home alone with his uncle for longer than a few days.

Once they got over that, they stopped coming to San Diego over the holidays.

As a family, at least.

"I wouldn't call this skating," Kurt mutters, burying the edge of his blade into the soft surface of the ice. "It's more like … slushing. For what you paid for our room, and then thirty dollars a ticket to skate, you'd think they'd figure out a way to keep their rink _cold_."

"I should have just taken you to Rockefeller Center," Sebastian pouts, running his blades through the puddle at his feet. He can feel the water seeping through the eyelets and into his socks. It's lukewarm, and Sebastian grimaces. Thank goodness they'd opted to bring old skates. Sebastian knows he'd personally cry if this adventure of his ruined Kurt's custom Riedells. Especially since Kurt's not wrong. Even during the coldest California Christmases, this rink has been a little on the damp side. Salt and ice don't play well together. That's why people put salt on their driveways during the winter. But it's never been _this_ bad.

"I'm sorry," Kurt says, taking his boyfriend's hand and resting his head on his shoulder. "I know you flew me out here for this super romantic moment. And I appreciate it. I really do. But this …" Kurt lifts his boot and instantly a stream of water dribbles off the blade "… with everything going on in the world, is just … really depressing."

"I know."

Kurt tugs Sebastian's hand, motioning with a tilt of his head towards the exit. Sebastian nods. This isn't the end of their vacation. Not by a long shot. They still have a room at the Hotel del with a private hot tub, a huge stretch of beach to lay out on, and plenty of indoor rinks in the county to carve up. But this moment - he'd been looking forward to sharing it with the love of his life since as long as he could remember. He'd hoped it could help rectify some unresolved hurts from his childhood, mend some past broken hearts.

But, fittingly, it was ruined by circumstances beyond his control.

"Remember, kids," Sebastian says to no one in particular, kicking up a puddle before he follows his boyfriend off the ice, "global warming isn't real. It isn't real."


	52. You Raise Me Up

**Preparing for a special Christmas exhibition leads to a discussion about life, the universe, and everything in between.**

 _When I am down, and, oh, my soul, so weary,_ _  
When troubles come, and my heart burdened be,  
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,  
Until you come and sit awhile with me …_

Sebastian's eyes follow his boyfriend as he glides across the ice, transitioning from an inner edge spiral to a twizzle, then a swirling spread eagle. The song playing over the speakers around the rink – _You Raise Me Up_ performed by Josh Groban - is slow, lyrical, note after note flowing like a river constricted by the shore into a tight, thin line. It forces Kurt to focus on his edges, maintain complete and utter control over his form. There is no room for error in this routine. A single wobbly blade or wonky foot position will throw his balance off. But Kurt is an athlete - a cheerleader and a dancer aside from being a skater. His form is exquisite, his control superhuman.

Kurt has more control over his body than anyone Sebastian has ever met.

For this song, Kurt doesn't move like a skater. He moves like a dancer – strong lines, long extensions, pointed toes the audience won't be able to see within his skates but which help to elongate his body. Skating this routine takes a level of technicality and expertise that Sebastian, with all his years of vigorous (and _expensive_ ) training, could never pull of as stunningly as Kurt.

Kurt isn't simply performing to the song playing overhead. It has seeped into his body and he has become a part of it – one of the many notes flowing down that river of music. It's almost as if the tune was composed for him to skate to it, the choreography he's come up with a perfect complement to its meaning. It's a trifecta rarely seen when a skater takes the ice in competition – nerves and stress interfering with artistry and focus.

But this isn't a competition piece. It's an _exhibition_ piece – an opportunity for Kurt to show off his skills without the pressure of being judged.

And it's the most exceptional routine Sebastian has ever seen Kurt skate.

The twist to this whole magnificent performance is that Kurt _hates_ this song. He hates Celtic-inspired ballads, which he feels have been done to death in the pop music genre. He hates the numerous soulful swells that fake you out more than twice into thinking you're about to reach the climax. He hates the bizarrely incongruous and vaguely vain video that accompanies the song. But most of all, he hates the religious overtones. As a general rule, Kurt tries to avoid skating to anything that can be deemed 'religious' or 'sacred', even when it comes to classical pieces. But this isn't just any exhibition he's preparing for. It's a Christmas exhibition thrown in honor of one of Westerville Ice-plex's most beloved coaches, Coach Amelia Reinhart, and the song was a special request from her.

Seeing as she's dying of the same cancer his mother recovered from, he couldn't say no. Not for anything in the world. She's a member of the two communities that have impacted him the most during his life.

That makes her family.

But they recently found out there's no guarantee Coach Amelia will be able to see the exhibition in person. So the cast is filming their performances ahead of the exhibition and making her a private copy. Kurt is recording his routine in Sebastian's private rink.

Sebastian is the man behind the camera.

They decorated for the occasion with tons of twinkling white lights, garland draped along every wall, poinsettia perched in the far corners, and a Christmas tree in the center, decorated in bulbs and ribbons of crimson and gold. Kurt doesn't usually use props when he performs. His handcrafted (and often over-the-top) costumes are the only bells and whistles he needs. But this time he chose a cream colored pair of pants and a pale pink shirt, understated and elegant, to highlight the candle in his hands – an LED one so he doesn't burn himself, the stick a slightly darker shade of pink than his shirt.

Both a symbol of breast cancer awareness.

To maintain the idea that the candle is real, Kurt refrains from doing many of his more impressive jumps, but that, too, is an homage. As a consequence of Coach Amelia's many procedures, she needed to have her left foot amputated.

Since she can no longer jump, Kurt opted not to either.

Sebastian is skating in the exhibition, too. He and Kurt are performing a jazzy, humorous duet to break up the sentimental melancholy. It's hella upbeat, with lots of physical comedy and visual jokes, and the cheesiest costumes they could find. But during the time he's watched Kurt practice his solo, he's thought up choreography for the two of them to _this_ song, with holds and turns and lifts (the lifts are kind of mandatory seeing as Josh sings _You raise me up!_ about a thousand times).

As with a lot of religious songs, the lyrics to this one sound deceptively romantic. He probably won't tell Kurt this anytime soon, but Sebastian loves this song. The words hold a lot of meaning for him, especially now that he has Kurt. Sebastian isn't conceded enough to think that _Kurt_ is stronger when he's on his boyfriend's shoulders. But Sebastian definitely is.

When they skate together and he lifts Kurt up, Sebastian feels like he can do anything.

The song reaches its final crescendo, and Kurt enters his last sit spin. The routine ends with Kurt setting the candle down carefully on the ice, backing away a foot, then standing with legs slightly spread, gazing up at the spotlight. Sebastian waits a few seconds as Kurt holds that pose, then puts the camera on pause. Once he gets it on his computer, he'll fade it to black after the song ends, with a dedication in the final frame. He gets choked up thinking about that, about how final it sounds. This exhibition could very well be the last time Coach Amelia sees them skate.

Sebastian has known Coach Amelia his entire life. He's not okay with that.

"How was that?"

Sebastian turns his gaze from his camera and watches Kurt slide to a stop. He looks like a guardian angel in his outfit, right out of an old, black and white Christmas movie.

Sebastian wipes tears off his cheek with his fingertips. Kurt pretends not to notice.

"You were … _perfection_."

"Wow," Kurt teases. "I got the _p_ word, huh?"

"You earned it. Do you want to see it?"

"Eww." Kurt chuckles, hiding his own sniffle. "No. Not yet. Not unless we can mute the music."

"You really don't like that song, do you?" Sebastian asks, wrapping his arms carefully around Kurt's waist so as not to wrinkle his shirt.

"I have nothing against the song really, it's just …" Kurt's eyes drift down to the pale pink of his shirt and he sniffles again "… it makes me think. And I don't skate to think. I skate to get away from thinking."

"What does it make you think about?"

"My mom mostly. Life. The universe. _God_."

"That's a lot of big ticket items."

Kurt nods, smiling to himself. It's not a happy smile, but it seems to fit. "Life is so hit and miss. My mom, she's been an athlete all her life, and she's been battling cancer since her twenties. My dad eats bacon and eggs for breakfast, lunch, and dinner practically, and his doctor just recently told him that his cholesterol is getting a little high."

"Yeah," Sebastian says, "that's … that's crazy."

"I get why people choose to believe in God. It's nice to think that someone somewhere is looking out for us, wanting the best for us, planning something nice for us when all of this is over. But there comes a time when it's actually a lot more comforting to believe that the bad things that happen - they're just random, and not the whim of some temperamental overlord who might decide that the best thing for us is an early death due to a wasting illness, and we don't get to question why. Seems a lot less … I don't know … _personal_."

Keeping one arm around Kurt's waist, Sebastian removes the blockers from his blades, then steps on the ice. He glides around the outskirts, taking Kurt with him. "Did you ever believe in God?"

"I tried," Kurt admits, winding an arm around Sebastian's shoulders, sliding into waltz position. "When I was little. When my mom's cancer came back, the one thing people always said was that they were going to pray for her. I began to wonder if that could make her magically get better. So I gave it a shot, because what did I have to lose? I even read the Bible. But the thing is, Christians say that God is their father. But he seems rather unforgiving for a dad. He has so many rules, and a lot of them make sense. But a lot of them don't. Story after story, it seemed like God was setting people up to fail."

"I've never heard it put that way," Sebastian says, "but I can see your point."

"Plus, I've always heard that you judge a parent by the actions of their kids, and the Christians I know? They're jerks! Our cheerleading squad has a couple of real Bible thumpers, and they're some of the worst people I've ever met. They're hypocritical, they're mean, they have all kinds of sex …"

A joke along the lines of _Why hasn't anybody ever told me that before? I'd go to McKinley in a second!_ pops into Sebastian's head, but now doesn't seem like the time, even if it might break the tension that's been building since Kurt first stepped on the ice.

"My dad is one of the best in the world. He doesn't judge me. He doesn't dole out random punishments. He doesn't make me pray to him, or burn oxen in his honor. If I was going to base a religion around a single father figure, it would be him."

Sebastian tries not to chuckle, but he fails with a snort. "I'd have to agree."

"What about you?" Kurt asks, leaning into Sebastian's change in direction. "What are your feelings about God and death and whatnot?"

"I don't have any feelings about that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't plan on dying."

"Ha-ha," Kurt says drily. "Seriously."

"Seriously?" Sebastian sighs. This isn't a question he likes to ponder all too often. Who does? "I don't think about it. Then again, I haven't had the reasons you've had to explore my thoughts about religion. My family isn't particularly religious. I can't remember us ever discussing it. There was the occasional prayer at the dinner table, but those were mostly reserved for holidays. I guess my parents felt it was generally understood that God exists; he's the good guy; don't steal, kill, or do drugs; and nothing else needed to be explained. But if I _had_ to think about it …" Sebastian pauses for a long, hard swallow. He's about to make a declaration out loud that he hasn't yet resolved in his head, but that doesn't mean it isn't true "… I'd have to say I agree with you. The Bible and Christianity and God … it's comforting and all. But it doesn't really make sense. But if there is a God, I hope he's as forgiving as everyone claims, and we can just chalk this up to a _huge_ misunderstanding." Sebastian taps his right fist over his heart, then throws a peace sign to the sky, and Kurt laughs.

"Yeah. Here's hoping."

"Only time will tell. In eighty, a hundred years, we'll know for sure."

They complete a full circle of the rink, around the tree, past the candle on the ice, its LED flame flickering. Sebastian takes Kurt's hands and lifts him up, pivots twice, then puts him back gently on his blades. It's a move that makes Kurt smile every time, the kind of smile Sebastian needed to see – carefree and happy, at peace with the world in the only place he truly can be.

Kurt doesn't stop smiling after they settle back into their rhythm, flushed cheeks round and red as apples. "One of the reasons I love skating is time doesn't exist when you're on the ice. You slip on your skates, you fly down the ice, the cold fills your lungs, and you feel like you're going to live forever."

"Yup. People would save a lot of money on cryogenics if they took up figure skating."

"Absolutely. But the rink would be crowded all the time, so don't tell anybody."

"So, did you want to run your program again? Get another take?" Sebastian asks. He's in no hurry to stop skating with Kurt, but there are things Kurt mentioned wanting to do today. Things he said were important.

Things Sebastian knows are a way to keep his mind off the exhibition, and Coach Amelia.

Kurt slows them down a bit. He slides closer to his boyfriend, rests his head on his shoulder. "No. I just want to keep doing this."

"For how long?"

"I think … until the candle burns out."

Sebastian smiles. "But it's not a real candle."

"Then we're going to be here for a while."


	53. Six of One, Half Dozen of Another

**Summary: Kurt and Sebastian are back home from college in time for Valentine's Day. Neither of them are particularly fond of the holiday, but they manage to find some common ground.**

 **Or common ice.**

 **Notes: I wrote this for Valentine's. It's a little late.**

"Ugh … just … _ugh_ …" Sebastian groans - the fiftieth time since he and Kurt left the Westerville rink. Kurt shakes his head but he can't stop smiling, riding high on the euphoria of three hours spent chaperoning the rink's annual Valentine's Social – a 50s themed hop on ice. The rink pulls out all the stops for Valentine's Day: renting a jukebox, putting up old time-y soda shop décor, dressing the staff in leather jackets and poodle skirts, and so on. But the highlight of the makeover (as far as Kurt's concerned) is the gigantic red heart painted mid-ice - a place where brave souls can bring their crushes to confess their feelings.

People have even been known to propose there.

Kurt has never been a big fan of Valentine's Day, but he _is_ a sucker for romance.

Call him a silly romantic, but yeah.

Sebastian makes a noise that sounds like another long, sustained ' _ugggggggh'_ , and Kurt snickers.

"What's going on with you? I thought you had fun tonight."

"I did," Sebastian says, "but only because I got to spend it with you."

"Well, _that's_ a relief."

"I don't particularly like Valentine's Day," Sebastian grumbles, pausing at a corner, then making a right.

"I know."

"And neither do you."

"I know that, too."

"So why do _you_ get to be all high and mighty?"

"Because unlike _you_ , I can look past the cheap chocolates and the obnoxious red hearts and appreciate the _romance_ … the love … the _drama_."

"Yeah" - Sebastian snorts - "because that's what we need more of down at the rink. _Drama_."

"When did you turn into such a big fuddy-duddy? Admit it - you love drama as much as I do."

"True, but there's a difference between the catty bull crap we usually fling around and purposefully setting people up to fail."

"Ah." Kurt nods, watching the stop light they're approaching change colors from amber to red. "Let me guess … it was that big heart on the ice."

"Yes, it was that big heart on the ice! First of all, I can't imagine the amount of money the rink spends every year to paint it there, and then layer _how much_ ice over it? It's going to be there for _months_!"

"You _do_ realize it's tradition." Kurt interjects. "It's actually there for Heart Disease Awareness month. The proceeds from tonight's ticket sales are going to the American Heart Association."

"I _guess_ …" Sebastian seethes, and Kurt knows he forgot. "Okay, fine. It's for a good cause. Yippee. Still, what happens when those new relationships break up? What if those proposals don't work out? Our regulars are going to be forced to come back to the rink and see that big red sign of _failure_ just sitting under there! If it were me, I'd practice at my own rink to avoid it. We might have actually driven business away without even knowing it!" Sebastian glances over at Kurt pulling a face and frowns. "I take it you don't agree."

"I'm sorry, but I don't."

"Don't you think it's kind of tacky? Making a big display like that? Getting down on your knee in front of a bunch of strangers to profess your so-called undying love?"

"I guess so. But, when you think about it, Valentine's Day isn't meant to be subtle. It's supposed to be over the top."

"It still sucks," Sebastian mutters, thrumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he waits for the light to change.

"Oh, Sebby," Kurt coos, placing a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder and kneading. "I didn't know how deeply you cared about the love lives of strangers."

"I don't." Sebastian's signature sarcastic smile makes a brief, fleeting appearance before he stares off into the distance, purposefully avoiding Kurt's playful gaze. "But I know what it's like to make a grand gesture … and have it rejected."

"Oh. _Oh_. Oh, Sebastian …" Kurt falls quiet, the atmosphere in the car going from one of lighthearted teasing to guilt with the changing of the street lights. Sebastian isn't talking about Kurt. They had their fights in the beginning, but once Kurt knew he mattered to Sebastian, he stopped fighting and opened his heart to him. It's his parents Sebastian is referring to. He worked hard over the years to make them proud, and when gold medals and first place podiums started becoming the status quo, he worked even harder to get their attention. So many routines he'd choreographed in dedication to his parents just for the meaning to go over their heads.

Or for them not to show up at all.

Kurt hears Sebastian sniff but that could be from the cold. If he doesn't bring it up, Kurt will leave it there. Sebastian glances over his shoulder to check for clearance before changing lanes, and when he turns back, he has his smirk fixed in place as if it had never left.

"Meh. You live, you learn. Ancient history."

"I guess so." Kurt watches Sebastian and not the road as silence brings him back to the handful of times he's gotten to meet Sebastian's parents. It's strange, and difficult, being around the three of them together. In front of Kurt (and Kurt imagines, in front of other people in general) they act like regular, doting parents, joking with their son about him having a boyfriend and asking them both questions about their plans for the future. But there's something else about them, something underneath the good-natured teasing and pleasant conversation.

Like they're playing a part, reciting the lines required before they get to pack up their things and fly away again.

Which makes the thought of them going back to Sebastian's house tonight an unpalatable one. His folks are there, on layover before they return to a gala in Italy they swore up and down is for work. And Kurt has no doubt it is.

That doesn't mean it's necessarily the right thing for them to do.

Kurt foresees a mildly uncomfortable dinner in their future, and that dampens his romance-fueled buzz. But at least this time, Kurt and Sebastian are only visiting, too – on break from college for a week, mostly to celebrate the anniversary of Kurt's mom's remission.

Kurt turns his attention back to the windshield when the road they're driving winds. The dark outside gets darker, and Kurt realizes Sebastian isn't taking him to the main house on his parents' property, but to his rink instead. "Uh, Seb?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"Why are we here? We just skated for _three hours_. I don't know about you, but I'm looking forward to getting out of these pants. They're a wee bit snug."

"That's a phrase I never thought I'd hear you say."

"And I hadn't planned on eating two dozen baby cupcakes, but nonetheless, here we are."

Sebastian pulls up alongside the outer wall and turns off the engine. "As much as I want to see you out of those tight jeans, I actually planned something for tonight. Something kind of special."

"You did?"

Sebastian side-eyes his skeptical boyfriend. "Are you surprised?"

"May-be. You've spent so much time griping, I thought you might just want to forget doing something as a couple on Valentine's Day."

"Are you kidding? Any excuse to get you dressed up and alone …"

"You know, coming from anyone else that would sound creepy."

"Well, thank goodness I'm not anyone else." Sebastian opens his door and gets out, closing it quickly behind him when a cold wind blows through. He tromps through the snow, rounding the rear of the vehicle to get to Kurt's door. "Come on," he says, opening the door and offering Kurt his arm, "let's get inside and out of this cold."

"It's kind of ironic that it's warmer _inside_ an ice rink than out here."

"Yeah. Too bad climate change doesn't exist."

"We live on the ice. We'll be alright."

Sebastian ushers Kurt to the door, playfully putting a hand over his eyes when he leads his boyfriend inside. Kurt hears Sebastian switch on the lights … or maybe switch them off. From what he can see past what Sebastian's hand doesn't cover, the switch he threw has done little to change the illumination of the room. He can't see much else past that, but closes his eyes regardless so as not to ruin Sebastian's surprise.

Sebastian barely has to help Kurt. He knows his way around Sebastian's rink by heart. He knows from the start that they're heading for the ice. But if they're not skating, why in the world would they be there?

"Okay." Sebastian adjusts his boyfriend's stance, then readjusts him several times to get him in the right position. Or to mess with him. That's a possibility, too. "Now … look."

Sebastian removes his hand from Kurt's eyes. Kurt blinks them once. It doesn't take much to adjust to the light in here. He thought he knew what he would see when Sebastian took his hand away but he was wrong. Sebastian's rink is impressive all on its own, but what he has created takes Kurt's breath away.

Sebastian kept the twinkle lights up from Christmas. When Kurt had asked Sebastian why he hadn't taken them down when he took down the tree, he said he liked the ambiance. Kurt should have known something was up then.

Sebastian and ambiance aren't two words oft heard in the same sentence.

But sometime between the last time Kurt was there (which was that afternoon) and tonight, he's hung red, pink, and gold foil hearts all around – on the walls and dangling from the ceiling. But when did he get the time? Kurt was seriously with him every minute of that day. Is it possible he actually got _Blaine,_ who'd taken off from school to join them, to help him? Otherwise Kurt has no idea how he could have pulled it off! And if he did humble himself to asking Kurt's best friend, who Sebastian still jokes that he doesn't particularly like, to help him decorate for Kurt, that makes Kurt love Sebastian all the more.

Electric candles line the rails of the rink; red and pink rose petals scattered around; and soft, romantic music piped through the overhead speakers; while lazy golden lights drift across the ice, courtesy of an upgrade to the overhead spotlight system. Those lights dance over the piece de resistance - a king-sized bed sitting center ice in the middle of a large, red mat, with a red carpet walkway leading straight to Kurt's feet.

It looks like the cover of a Harlequin Romance novel. And as cheesy as that is, Kurt can't help but swoon just a little.

Again – silly romantic.

"So … _this_ doesn't count as over-the-top?" Kurt laughs as Sebastian takes his hands and leads him down the red carpet towards the bed. It's then that Kurt spots their Zuca bags, standing side by side at the head, just in case they want to get some after nookie skating in, Kurt guesses.

An image of them post-coitus, trying to land jumps and perform scratch spins on shaky legs, makes him laugh harder.

"Nope. Because you and I are certifiably in love. And this …" Sebastian glances over at the bed behind them, covered in satin blankets, a mound of pillows, a bouquet of long stemmed roses, plus a silver tray crowded with strawberries, a dish of cream, and a bottle of sparkling cider, kept chill by the icy air of Sebastian's rink "… this counts as the bare minimum."


	54. Hide and Seek

**Summary: When one of their players go missing, it's up to Kurt and Sebastian to hunt them down.**

"Marco?" Kurt calls, then waits, ears straining in the enclosed locker room, listening for a peep, a laugh, any sign of the boy he's looking for.

But he hears nothing.

 _Shoot_! He circles the room, kicking pads and shorts and mounds of soggy gear to the side so he can see the floor more clearly.

"Marco?" He tries again, begging with his brain for a response.

But nothing.

Kurt sighs. He hates being in the locker rooms this late at night. Not that he's the only one there. There are other boys searching same as him. But the locker rooms are a liminal space. Without any windows, with doors that close on their own, and motion-activated lights that always seem to be on the blink, it's really easy to lose track of time in there, especially when you're alone.

Plus it's really beginning to stink.

Hot sweat is bad enough, but cold sweat? That's a different, nauseating form of olfactory hell altogether.

"Come on. You _won_. I'll admit it. Just … come on out, okay? We're all waiting for you." _We can't go home without you, you little …_ "Marco!"

From the locker room next door, or maybe the one a few doors down, muffled by thick cement walls, Kurt hears: "Polo!"

His ears perk up. His whole face brightens. All he has to do is figure out which room that voice came from, and he can finally get the heck out of here!

He races out the door chanting, "Marco! Marco! Marco!" An answering chant of, "Polo! Polo! Polo!" matches his as he races down the hall, hopping from room to room looking for the boy behind the voice. But the closer he gets to zeroing in on its location, the more annoyed he becomes as the true identity of the owner behind the faint cry of "Polo!" becomes easier to distinguish.

"Marco!" Kurt grumbles, storming into the last locker room and catching Sebastian just as the word "Polo!" comes out of his mouth.

"Sebastian! You _dork_! I'm trying to get _Josh_ to say 'Polo'! Not _you_!"

Sebastian shrugs. "Sorry. It's a reflex."

Kurt shakes his head. "You don't know how to deal with kids under the age of fifteen, do you?"

"Uh, no. No, I don't. That's why I don't coach the mites, Kurt. Kids are not my thing."

A snicker creeps between their arguing, but it's not Kurt or Sebastian. It lasts barely a second, but it makes both boys tense up.

"Did you hear that?" Kurt asks.

Sebastian nods. "I think it's coming from one of those …" He points at the humongous gear bags standing like sentinels around the room.

"Are you _serious_?" Kurt scrunches his nose at the thought of this little boy, so determined to win this game of Hide and Seek (that only _he_ was playing) that he would lock himself up inside some older boy's dirty, sweaty bag.

In Kurt's mind, that's the equivalent of cutting off a toe to win a sack of dead grass.

"Yeah," Sebastian says. "Quick, say something funny."

"Wha-what? What do you mean _say something funny_? What do I look like? A clown?"

"Well, not normally, but that outfit you were wearing last Wednesday …"

"And what was wrong with the outfit I was wearing last Wednesday!?"

"That fluffy shirt …"

"… is a Gucci original, you uncultured swine!"

"I'm just saying, it wasn't one of your best decisions."

Another giggle peppered in amidst the pile of discarded gear stops their arguing again. Silence, then another giggle, and they realize the sound is coming from the largest tower bag standing in the center of the room – the only one with a thin halo of space surrounding it. Sebastian maneuvers through the mess to get to it and gives it a shake, which causes its contents to erupt with laughter.

"Josh!" Kurt yells, unzipping the bag to let the little boy free. "We've been looking all over for- _whoa_!"

They don't see the small boy at first because the smell that hits them the moment they unzip the bag forces them back a full foot.

"Jesus Christmas!" Sebastian coughs. "You have to admire his dedication cuz, I mean, good night!"

"Josh?" Kurt reaches a hand down blindly for the boy, his eyes watering so badly he can barely see. "What the heck were you doing in there?"

"I winned!" the boy cheers, raising both fists in the air.

"Next time, make sure the rest of us know that we're playing. Deal?" Sebastian says, offering the boy his fist to bump.

"Deal!" Josh says, returning the gesture.

"Great. Now that that's settled …" Kurt takes Josh by the smallest corner of the shoulder of his shirt and leads him at arm's length from the room, "let's get you to mom … so she can hose you down with Febreeze ... and Lysol … and set your clothes on fire …"

"Hey, maybe we can toss in your shirt from last Wednesday while we're at it," Sebastian kids.

Kurt doesn't even look over his shoulder to acknowledge him. "Quiet, peasant."


End file.
